


Sunflower: Vol. 1

by ourownstrings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Depressed Louis, Depression, Drinking, Farmer Louis Tomlinson, Florist Harry, Flower Crowns, Flower Symbolism, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Misunderstandings, Musician Harry, Pining, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, So many flowers, Supportive Harry, but definitely not famous, side Ziam, very side schiall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourownstrings/pseuds/ourownstrings
Summary: “Real farmers love mornings.” Louis hated that sentiment. But then he wasn’t a real farmer. He just got stuck in the family business and drags himself to the farmers market where he put on his best sunny sales pitch. That is until he meets the new flower vendor. The flower boy who is even wearing floral-patterned clothes as he sells bouquets. Suddenly, Saturday mornings are the highlight of his week.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 58
Kudos: 249
Collections: One Direction Big Bang Round 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to the Big Bang mods for bringing together so many talented writers and artists. I work best with external structure and you helped me get this story out there. 
> 
> I'm so grateful this collaboration connected me with a talented artist on the other side of the world. [Grace aka ltwalls2020](https://ltwalls2020.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thanks to Kayti for being my editor and writing buddy among so many other things. I trust you to tell me what's good and what is terrible and that is invaluable. 
> 
> To Gillian, Sage and Kim, thanks for making me so welcome in one fandom that I followed you into this one. 
> 
> In this fic, Louis's mum died five years before the start of the story. I set out to write a romance about two idiots falling for each other at a farmers market. But there are moments where Louis is dealing with his grief and depression.
> 
> The "lilies mean I dare you to love me" line comes from the 2005 movie Imagine Me and You. I love that movie and thought about doing a fic more closely based on it but instead I just took inspiration by rewatching it twice while writing this story.

Four am was too early. Way too early. There had to be a mistake.

“Louis, up and ‘em!” Liam’s friendly yet persistent voice reverberated in his head louder than his alarm. He had tossed the phone across the room. How had Liam even gotten into his house? Or into his bedroom for that matter?

Louis groaned into his pillow. “Who even let you in?” 

“Your sisters love me.” Louis shifted and glanced with one open eye over the pillow at Liam.

“Also, you don’t lock the door. C’mon, man we cannot be late. Simon will fine us. And, worse... he’ll make some snarky remark about ‘how real farmers love mornings.’” 

Ugh, Louis did hate that stereotype. He was only a farmer because his mum was a farmer, his grandparents were farmers, and basically everyone ever in his family had been farmers. Or at least poor peasants. It was at moments like these, when all Louis wanted was to stay in bed, that he didn’t feel that removed from being a poor peasant.

“I hate mornings.” Louis lifted his head up, acquiescing to the fact that he did, in fact, have to get out of bed.

“I know.” Liam looked like he was doing his best to be sympathetic but it was difficult considering Louis was fairly certain he’d had time to apply beard oil this morning.

“Here. Wear this.” Liam tossed something soft at his head.

“Is this even my shirt?” Louis asked, as he glanced at the forest green top, soon realizing Liam was wearing a matching one. Both were emblazoned with the words “Tomlinson Family Farm.”

“I had Zayn make them,” Liam told him. “I think we need to be more recognizable this year. In the marketing class I took this winter, they said that branded clothing can increase sales and...”

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop talking about your marketing class, I’m going back to bed.” But, as Louis talked, he got out from beneath the warm covers and began searching the floor for the cleanest jeans he could find. After pulling them on, Liam handed Louis a green Thermos filled with coffee. Had Liam color coordinated _everything_? 

They tiptoed through the house doing their best not to wake up any of Louis’ siblings, who were all definitely still sleeping. As they went outside, Louis shivered in the spring air despite the fuzzy warmth he’d hoped the shearling jacket he’d just pulled on would provide. 

It was still dark outside, but Liam had already backed the farm lorry up to the loading dock and turned on the exterior lights so it would be easier to make their way over to the barn. Where did Liam get this much energy? Thank god he had it. 

Liam wordlessly passed crates of veggies off the dock to Louis, who stood in the lorry. Louis regretted not taking Liam up on his countless invitations to join him at the gym this past winter. Louis was not in farming shape, almost dropping one of the heavier crates, while Liam clearly could have loaded ten farm trucks full and not broken a sweat. It had been a long winter and, if Louis was being honest, some days getting out of bed to do the farm chores had been his workout.

As Liam pulled out of the drive, Louis felt immensely grateful for a friend like him. “Thanks for driving,” he told Liam. 

Liam shrugged. “Of course, I always do the way there.”

“Yeah, I know. I just meant...” Louis leaned over to fiddle with the heating, which was rubbish in this truck. He stared at his hands as he held them over the vent. “You know, Payno. Just thanks for making the shirts and helping with everything. This farm wouldn’t function without you.”

Liam tapped his fingers against the wheel. “Happy to do it.”

After that short conversation, Louis couldn’t help but drift off into the place between dreaming and day. This would be their seventh summer making these morning drives. Louis both cherished them and was desperate for them to end. He meant for the spring semester to be the time he would go back to school full time, but the winter had drifted into a malaise. Holidays had soon become broken New Year’s resolutions and, here he was... another semester towards being a dropout, not just a student on leave. 

Liam, on the other hand, was one semester closer to graduating and one semester closer to these car rides becoming irrelevant. Once Liam graduated, he couldn’t keep working the same underpaid summer job he’d been working since they were both teenagers. And Louis was happy for him but, if he was being honest, he was a little scared too. Of how much he relied on his driver. And how bitter he was becoming about being left behind. He didn’t like the feeling but he drifted back to sleep, face smooshed against the window.

The next thing he knew, they were in Manchester and unloading. 

“At least the crates are lighter this time of year.” Liam said sunnily, as he transferred the bags of salad mix to the table.

The market had a rhythm. The early-bird-gets-the-radish crowd was always trying to buy something twenty minutes before they officially opened. Simon would yell if they dared to sell one leaf of lettuce before 9am. This crowd had a list of errands and a mission for their Saturday and it meant that the first hour was a blur of proper change and bags. After this rush, it would become more leisurely until the hangover crowd hastily tried to get to their shopping in before the close.

In the lull between these two rushes, Louis restocked and finally had a chance to look out at the rest of the market. Across from them was Pansies. When Nick had started the flower business three years ago, Louis had been skeptical that this guy with a couple of daffodils was gonna be able to make a go of it. But he’d been steadily growing the business and now customers were lined up every weekend to purchase bouquets. The peachy ranunculus that had been cascading out of the stand earlier had dwindled to a couple stems in a vase. 

It was at this moment that Louis noticed the long-haired man practically blending into the tulips. His lavender shirt was accented with deep purple flowers that seemed to match the blossoms on the table perfectly. How did he coordinate so well? Who even wore something like that to work at a farm stand? 

“You might have got us new shirts, but at least you didn’t do something like that.” Louis said to Liam, gesturing across the market towards Pansies.

Liam shrugged. “I kind of like it. I mean _I_ wouldn't wear it, but you got to admit it works for him.”

“I admit nothing,” said Louis. “It’s over the top. He’s selling flowers, not himself. This isn’t a fashion show.”

“First, you didn’t listen to a word I said about our shirts. We _are_ selling ourselves. People want to feel like they’re getting an authentic experience. They want to have a connection to their farmers. To the earth...”

Louis groaned. “Come on. Did they brainwash you as part of that bloody seminar?”

“Whatever, it’s working for Nick. He has the best marketing of anyone at this market. It’s why he could hire Harry.”

“Who’s Harry?”

Liam motioned. “The purple wonder.”

“How do you already know Harry?”

“You know those parties that Nick is always inviting us to that you never attend?”

“I’m not driving all the way to Manchester to go to a party.”

“You need to get a social life, Louis, or one of these days, I’m gonna find you talking to the carrots.”

“Excuse me, how much is the spinach?”

Louis hadn’t even noticed the bespectacled woman come into the tent. “Oh, it’s three pounds, love.”

After that, the customer traffic picked up again and the argument was forgotten. Hopefully... but not likely. Louis _had_ a life, whatever Liam thought. He went down to the pub with Stan. Just last week, Lottie and he had gone to some new club in Doncaster. But Liam was always pestering him to go out. To go to Manchester. To go on dates. He kept ruminating as he packed the stand up while Liam went to get the truck. He turned to put the remaining vegetable into a crate and bumped right into the violet man.

“Oops.”

“Hi.” Wow, that sounded a little harsher than he’d meant it to.

“Sorry,” Harry said, handing Louis some of the produce that had fallen to the ground. “I’m kind of a klutz. Nick almost didn’t hire me because of it. ‘You’ll break all the vases,’ he said.”

“Have you?”

“What?”

“Broken all the vases?”

“Only one. Turns out we actually don’t use a lot of vases. Anyways, I was just bringing you these.” Harry thrust a bouquet forward. Louis wasn’t sure where he’d been hiding the white flowers with lavender accents as he’d picked up the scattered items. Had he manifested them from his shirt? “Wanted to introduce myself. I’m Harry. Figured we’re kind of going to be working together this summer.”

Glancing at each other across the market didn’t exactly constitute working together, but Louis kept this opinion to himself. “Uh, thanks. I’m Louis. Do you want some lettuce or something in exchange? We mostly sold out because it’s early in the season.”

“Oh, no... it’s a gift! I like being a flower fairy.”

Louis resisted making a snide comment.

“Well, uh, thanks.” This was all Louis could think to say. He was so thrown. What was this guy’s deal? Harry had a sweetness that actually surprised him. What twenty-something guy willingly referred to themselves as a fairy? And just brought random gifts?

“I’ll see ya next week, Louis.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harry wasn’t sure if he would like working at the farmers’ market. He’d figured it would be like working at the bakery, or at least that’s what he’d told Nick when he was trying to get him to offer him the job. He could make change and talk up a product. Fundamentally, what’s the real difference between bread and flowers? 

Harry could be kind of quiet, preferring to genuinely think through what he was going to to say. Or write it in a song where he could polish it or use metaphor or the feeling in his voice to communicate things. Selling things felt a little bit like onstage banter. Not that he had much of a repertoire; he’d only played some open mics. But there was an element of sales in it. A pitch. It helped if you believed in what you were selling. He believed in his music. And, as it turned out, he believed in flowers. He laughed aloud at the thought of believing in flowers.

“Amusing ourselves, are we?” Nick looked charmed at Harry’s giggle. “As long as you keep setting up. I fear Simon is making his way towards our humble flower stand and he’ll prevent me from doing any actual work.” Nick nodding down the line of stalls to the market manager who seemed to be stopping at each business to get them to pay fees? Harangue them? Who’s to say?

“Ugh, I’ll look really focused so he doesn’t talk to me.”

“ _ Be  _ focused. That’s what I’m paying you just over minimum wage for.”

“You bet, boss.” 

Harry grinned and started arranging the make-your-own bouquet portion of the stand, making sure there were large centerpiece blossoms and delicate accent flowers all within reach. 

Plenty of people ended up just grabbing any old bouquet of tulips, but Harry loved working with the customers who wanted to be creative. People came up with wild bouquets: Power clashing large blossoms. Arrangements made entirely of filler plants by people who saw the beauty in the background. Wisps of baby’s breath ghosting around viridescent eucalyptus and puffy bachelor buttons. He loved helping someone gain the confidence to create a bouquet and not worry about the “correct” way of doing it. 

If the market was slow enough, he could explain flower symbolism to customers. He’d been reading up on it since Nick hired him. A new love language for him to learn. And the people who took fifteen minutes on a Saturday to make their perfect arrangement were the type that wanted to become conversational. He believed in flowers because he was a romantic soul. Even if his life had been lacking in romance up to this point. He glanced over to where Louis was setting up his stand. Was there vegetable symbolism? If there was, how quickly could he become fluent in it? What was Louis’ love language?

Simon interrupted his thoughts. “Where did you find this one, Nicholas?” 

“Is reviewing hiring practice now under your purview?” Nick asked.

Simon frowned. “Just making conversation. I like to get to know my vendors. What’s your name, kid?”

Nick had complained about the “rude and unnecessarily punitive man” at length, but this was the first time that Harry had actually spoken to him and he already felt like the simple question was a set up for something. He put a hand out anyway. “Harry. Nice to meet you.”

Simon shook his hand but didn’t even bother to respond to the pleasantry. “Now, I have to ask... Where on earth did you get that shirt?”

He knew Simon didn’t give a damn where he got the oatmeal-hued blouse, but it was new and he was proud of his growing florally-inspired top collection. This particular one had a classic botanical design with vines, leaves and petals intertwining. Sure, his outfit selection became a more pressing concern when he realized he’d be working across from the adorable farmer from Tomlinson Farm, but Harry was a fan of dressing for himself. Wearing your heart and your interests on your sleeve. It wasn’t easy finding beautiful clothes on a student’s wage, but he’d just snagged this at the thrift store.

“Can you believe I bought it for five pounds at a charity shop?”

“You know, I actually can.”

“Such good deals.” Harry was not giving into this guy’s passive-aggressive negativity.

“Well, Simon, it was lovely to discuss the new regulations, but Harry and I should finish our set up.”

“Right, holler if you lads need anything,” Simon said and turned to walk toward Louis’ stand. Nick made a ridiculous face across the market and Liam started cracking up. But Harry could see Louis straightening up from a few meters away. He obviously didn’t want to deal with Simon. Makes sense considering his prickly personality. Harry knew that he didn’t really know Louis, but considering how at ease he normally seemed as he went about his work, he wondered. 

“What’s up with those two?” he asked Nick.

“Oh, Simon has it out for Louis for some unfathomable reason,” Nick told him. “I don’t get it. He’s run that stand since his mum got sick. He’d show up every Saturday, even when she was dying. He was clearly exhausted. We tried to rally together to see if we could provide volunteers to work with Liam, but Louis insisted that he liked the work. I think it was the only time he went anywhere except the farm and hospital. And now he’s helping raise his little siblings. I can never keep track of all of them. One time, Louis brought his baby brother and Simon tried to tell him that it wasn’t allowed. He made up a rule: ‘ _ Children under the age of 8 are not permitted to accompany a vendor at the market unless there is another guardian to supervise them during the market.’ _ ”

“But wasn’t it, like, an emergency?”

“Yes, you would think Simon would take that into account. Simon just doesn’t think that Tomlinson Farm is right for the market. I think he wants everything to be posh heirloom vegetables with artsy labels. And obviously, _ I  _ bring that aesthetic.” Nick threw his arms wide gesturing at the embroidered banner and plethora of mason jars that made up the décor. “But people still want veg for their Sunday roast. Not everything has to be ready to make the market look cute on Instagram.”

“I’ve got to save him.” Harry had meant to take the time to make a proper bouquet this week. One that communicated his intentions even if Louis didn’t understand flower symbolism. Harry wasn’t ready to be direct in another way yet. He wanted to gauge Louis’ interest. He grabbed several peonies from a bucket and figured the gesture of stopping Simon was better than crafting a perfect floral message.

“What are you doing?” Nick asked, puzzled but Harry strode toward Louis with determination.

“Louis, I almost forgot!” He walked right between Louis and Simon to hand over the red and pink flowers. Louis accepted them with a confused expression. “I want to make sure you got the bouquet you special ordered. Sometimes things get so hectic at the market, customers will snag anything.”

“Right,” Louis said, starting to catch on. “I was so busy with Simon, I almost forgot.” 

“Well, I should go then. Seems like you can only focus one thing.” And with that last retort, Simon walked away to bother the goat cheese woman.

“I should actually focus before we get slammed with customers, but thanks.” Louis locked eyes with Harry and he felt the gratitude through the gaze. Their interaction last week had been fleeting and Harry wasn’t sure if Louis thought he was silly. But this simple gesture seemed to get Louis to notice him. “For the flowers and for getting rid of Simon.”

“No trouble. Although... I should get back.” Harry stepped backward. He  _ should _ get back to work, but didn’t want to look away. Foolish because, as he felt something hard hit his calf, he knew he should have been watching where he was going. Concern and amusement flicked across Louis' face before Harry lost sight of him, tumbling backward, knocking food everywhere. The two bins that had been behind him flew open and radishes seemed to take off in all directions. He was already standing up brushing the dirt off himself before Louis had made his way around the table.

“You weren’t kidding about being clumsy.”

“Sadly, no.” Harry tried to recover quickly scooping up the scattered root vegetables.

Louis reached for the bunches and brushed Harry’s hand in the process. Harry slowed at the physical contact. How was he this taken by this man when all he did was take something from his hands?

“Hey,” Louis told him, “I appreciate the help but you should get back to work. Liam and I have a system.” He nodded to Liam who was picking up the bags that had rolled all the way under the table. Harry wasn’t sure where he’d been.

“Hi, Harry,” Liam said in greeting. “You really scattered this stuff everywhere, mate. But you got rid of Simon so I call it a win.”

“Sure, I’ll see you guys later.” And with that Harry made his retreat back to Pansies, watching his step the whole way. He’d been known to follow one klutzy thing with another.

“Wow, just wow.” Nick grinned at him.

Harry rubbed his hand over his face. “I can’t believe I fell over.”

“Don’t peonies mean bashful romance or something of the sort?” Nick asked. “From my view, that entrance and exit was anything but bashful.”

“Let’s just sell some flowers.”


	3. Chapter 3

_ All the lights couldn't put out the dark _

_ Runnin' through my heart _

_ Lights up and they know who you are _

_ Know who you are _

_ Do you know who you are? _

Louis looked up from the sales sheet he was filling out while Liam drove. “Who is this?

“It’s Harry.”

“He  _ sings _ too? What kind of fairy land does he come from.”

“I think he’s from somewhere called Holmes Chapel.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Liam stared intently at the road.

“I just mean he seems slightly improbable. Like not only did Nick find someone who is a charming presence, he seems totally invested in a business that is not his to the point that he has coordinated outfits. And he could probably start serenading the flowers?”

“He has a song about a watermelon!” Liam intercut.

Louis stared. How could this possibly be true? Who writes about watermelon?

“I mean, I don’t know if it’s  _ about _ watermelon. I didn’t put it on the playlist. I don’t even know if he has recorded it. He’s only got a couple songs on his Bandcamp. I saw him sing that song at that show Zayn and I went to last month.”

“Which show? Wait... how long have you known flower boy?”

“Okay, first off, you know his name is Harry. Second, I told you I met him at that party that Nick had last month. Nick DJ’d most of the night but, at the beginning, Harry played a couple songs while everyone was still gathering. He’s pretty good. The music is a little weird for my taste, but he’s definitely talented. Also, if you ever came to any of those parties, you’d know all of this.”

Louis groaned. “There is no way I have time to go to one of those parties.”

“You cannot spend the whole summer working. You have to get a life.”

“I have a life. I hang out with you and Stan and Lottie. I’m working on getting ready for school too. Once the season slows down, I’ll have all sorts of time to get wasted with a bunch of first years that I’m stuck with in class with.”

“You can’t put your life on hold, Louis. There’s always gonna be more work and some excuse.”

Louis couldn’t do this. It was too early to fight with Liam about how he didn’t have the energy to have this life that Liam had such faith that he could have. It was well-intentioned, but he just couldn’t. Getting up to work in the fields every day. To smile and repeat the same thing to customers every Saturday. Even the energy to go down to the pub. He wasn’t going to break that routine. He wasn’t going to break. The therapist he’d been seeing for awhile after his mum died told him he had to learn “to trust others with his fears.” But how do you tell your best friend you are afraid to look at the future and you are afraid to look at the past for longer than a lingering glance? The therapist, with lots of diplomas on her wall and a posh office, couldn’t tell him that. So, instead, he leaned over and cranked up the new song, and turned to Liam. “So did the goat cheese girl write this one?”

The market had been an absolute blur. After Liam had helped set up, he’d gone to finish one last term paper. He said he’d needed to study the whole day to be able to go to some art opening that he’d promised Zayn he’d go to. 

Louis hated packing up the market by himself. The unsold produce fit into two boxes, but the tables and tents were not a one-person job. They were relatively light but awkward.This left Louis to try to manhandle the tent into its bag by himself. Why do tents never fit into the bloody bags they came in? Not camping tents. Not market tents. He cursed as he pinched his finger and simultaneously felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry said.

“Oh no, it wasn’t you. I just pinched my finger. These are the worst designed things."

“I know. That’s why I thought I’d help you. It’s way better with two.”

“You really don’t have to. You must want to get on with your Saturday.”

“Ahh, we’ve got to go work a wedding. Just waiting.” Harry gestured back at Nick who was leaning against his delivery truck flirting with a man in trainers and short shorts whom Nick had clearly managed to stop during the course of his morning run.

“What? Is he trying to get a date to the wedding?”

Harry laughed as they lifted the tent into the bed of the truck. “Nah, we are just setting things up long before the festivities start. I do love a good wedding. Especially with the right date.”

Was Harry flirting with him? He had to admit that he’d noticed Harry’s biceps through the sheer daffodil print shirt. Did Nick and Harry just use their time selling flowers to pick up men? 

“I hate weddings,” he told Harry. 

Dammit. If Harry  _ was _ flirting with him, that was not the response he should have used. It was true; he hated weddings. In theory, they sounded great. Sharing a commitment of love with the people the two of you most care about as witnesses and it’s all a party of your own making?

But when does it ever turn out that way? Put aside the ‘til death do us part bit. The wedding itself never seems to turn out well. People are always pressured to bring some terrible relatives who don’t even treat the couple decently, nevermind their fellow guests. He remembered one egregious example at his cousin’s ceremony where the groom’s father had started rambling about the bride’s flaws during a toast. It’s hard not to invite your parents, but if people can’t act with respect, then, in Louis’ book, they shouldn’t make the guest list. Weddings are not the time for family mediation.

Harry interrupted Louis rumination on the nature of matrimony. “What? They’re fabulous parties! It’s the biggest party anyone throws in their life. Did you know that people spend more money on the flowers for their wedding day then all the other days of their life combined? Now I think we should buy flowers all the time.” Harry started counting on his fingers. “Because you miss someone. Because someone taught you something. To show someone kindness. Buy them for yourself. But I think if you  _ have _ to concentrate it to one day, then I can’t think of a better day then the one you say to the world: this is the person I want to love for the rest of my days. The party will end. The flower will fade. But our love is forever.”

Louis dropped the edge of the tent he was carrying onto his toe. “Fuck.” He hopped around in a circle that wasn’t actually helping alleviate the shooting pain, but  _ was _ helping him not look Harry in the eye.

“Ahh, sorry. I was getting carried away. I should have focused on carrying this thing.” And then Harry proceeded to hoist the tent onto his shoulders and walk to the truck. Louis just stared at the dainty yellow flowers that decorated Harry’s muscled back. 

“Fuck,” he said again.


	4. Chapter 4

“I mean... he is gay, right? I feel like I’ve been flirting with him but he just seems, I don’t know… annoyed?”

“Wait, Styles, let me get this right... If someone isn’t interested in you, it isn’t you personally but their sexuality?”

“No, Nick, that’s not....” Harry searched for a better way to explain his panic that his interest wasn’t reciprocated.

“Relax. I’m just kidding you. Trust me he’s gay or at least into men. He’s had a few guys he’s been seeing stop by the market since I’ve been working here. None of them seem to stick.”

“Ahhh, what am I doing wrong?” 

“For one, you need to chill the fuck out. You spend the entire week working yourself up fantasizing about him and then you get here and spend the whole time stressing out over a simple conversation.”’

Harry fiddled with the edge of the tablecloth, which he was embarrassed to admit kind of matched his shirt this week. 

“Second, you need to be more direct. Just ask him on a bloody date. Maybe he doesn’t appreciate being chatted up while he’s trying work. Maybe, if you talked to him some time that wasn’t Saturday morning, you’d have a better go of it.” 

“You’re right. I’ll just stroll on over there right now and ask him out to that new taco place.”

“Okay, but not  _ right _ this moment because he has customers and we could too. Make some bouquets, think about what you want to say, and then invite him to lunch.”

“Good thinking. Don’t want to ask him when he’s distracted.” 

“Or, ya know, when you’re supposed to be working.” Nick teased. 

Harry started rearranging the packs of flower seedlings they had for sale. He coached a woman through picking out some that would grow in her “impossibly shady yard.” Then another person who “wanted the one they were least likely to kill.” Which, to be honest, was probably none of them considering the details they’d shared about their previous plant casualties. 

Finally, there was a lull at both the flower and vegetable stands. He had a plan. Just ask him out for lunch. Simple. As Harry walked towards him, it looked as if the corners of Louis’ mouth crept up into the slightest smile. Was it at him? 

“Do you like avocados?” 

Louis looked horrified, as if he’d asked if he liked eating babies. “No. Trendiest food ever. Everyone's got to take pictures with them and talk about what they symbolize and they aren’t even that tasty.” 

“There’s vegetable symbolism?” At least he didn’t have to wonder about that anymore. 

“What? No… I mean maybe… I don’t know. I mean there are all those articles about how millennials could afford to buy houses if they just stopped eating so much toast.”

“Right.” Harry regretted his simple question. There were plenty of other taco toppings. Hot peppers. Cilantro. And the point wasn’t the avocados. So much for being direct. 

“Why?” 

“Oh, just thinking about taco toppings…” It felt impossibly hot for a May morning. Was the Tomlinson Farm stand in an extra sunny spot? Did the tent refract light in some odd way? He looked at Louis and any smile he’d had before had transformed into a puzzled expression. Even confused Louis looked adorable, with a slight tilt of his head and a furrowed brow. “Might buy some.” With  _ you _ , he’d meant to say. At a restaurant. 

“Okay... we got some radishes and lettuce. Cabbage and carrots.... if you wanted to make like a slaw or something? The tomatoes and peppers aren’t ready yet.”

“I’ll, uh, take all that.” He picked up a purple cabbage and handed it to Louis to weigh. Then he grabbed a bunch of radishes. 

“You want turnips too?” 

“What?” 

“Those are salad turnips not radishes.” 

What the hell was a salad turnip? Louis must think he’s an idiot who doesn’t know anything about vegetables. He did though. He liked to cook and he used all sorts of vegetables in his cooking. The white golf-ball-sized things in his hand certainly _ looked  _ like radishes. Simple questions and simple produce were apparently anything but when it came to Louis. Or Harry was just slowly losing it whenever he tried to have a conversation with him. Harry wondered if he could just fade into the tablecloth at Pansies. 

Louis smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, you’re like the tenth person today to make that mistake. They’re kind of a niche crop and they look just like white radishes to the average person. They’re a lot sweeter than radishes though.”

“Okay well... I’ll try those instead of the radishes.” Harry handed over his money and there was a long pause as he knew he’d exhausted their conversation about root vegetables and correct change and now he didn’t know how to recover anything about this situation. “Um, I don’t need a bag… We’ve got plenty at the stand.” 

“You sure?” Louis asked as Harry scooped everything into his arms. 

“Yeah, totally fine. Got to save those whales.” Halfway back to the stand, he dropped his cabbage but luckily it bounced and rolled toward the flower stand. If it had gone back toward Louis, he would have abandoned it. No way he was going back there today. 

Nick was watching him with a mixture of sympathy and glee. “Got all your shopping done?”

“Never mention this again. Also, do you want to come over my house for tacos?”


	5. Chapter 5

He needed to go to bed. He had worked ten hours today and needed to be up again before the crack of dawn. But he couldn’t stop thinking about one of the last things Liam had said before heading out for the night: “You don’t worry about anyone else at the farmers’ market like this. I can’t help but think there is a reason.” 

Curse Liam. And curse Flower Boy. But, as much as he hated to admit it, there were so many reasons why he was both annoyed and drawn to Harry. Jesus, he just seemed so damn comfortable in his own skin. Like, what man strolls around wearing frills like that?

And it wasn’t just how he dressed. Harry had a confidence with people that simultaneously exuded kindness and a “take me as I am” boldness. The mix seemed effortless. Louis moved through the world with a sarcastic quip that was often hiding his fear of others lack of kindness and his own lack of boldness. 

Fuck, he knew that he was drawn to Harry’s openness because of his own walls. Even Liam practically needed a ladder to get over them. He didn’t want to wear flowered button downs. His trackies were just fine, thanks. He loved being from Donny where gay men wore the same working class stuff as everyone else. He didn’t want to leave that. 

All that effort seemed honestly exhausting to him in a way he could tell thrilled Harry. But if his wrist was a little limp when he gestured he didn’t want to worry that someone was going to judge him. He loved wearing braces. It made sense. Half the time, he was working outside. Braces were made for manual labor. But he looked like a complete twink when he wore them, no matter how much dirt he was covered in.

Louis got out of bed. Wasn’t like he was sleeping anyway. He shoved the desk chair to his closet to reach the box on the top shelf. The dancing squash on the cardboard seemed to mock him as he set the box on the bed and pulled out clothes that he never wore but couldn’t quite bear to give to the charity shop. 

Some of the shirts were hideous. But at the bottom of the box, his hand grasped the elastic and buckles. He loved these braces. One pair was even decorated with tiny cabbages, a gift from Liam in one of his early efforts at marketing. And probably an effort to scale Louis walls, if Louis was being honest with himself. 

When they were young, Liam hadn’t been nearly as direct as he is now. While the gift spoke volumes, Louis wasn’t sure if he’d heard anything, how Liam was always trying to say, “I got you, mate. Whoever you are.” 

****

“I thought you hated those!” Liam gestured at the braces, as Louis slid into the passenger seat.

“I mean, they fell into the back of my closet and I was cleaning and….”

“This doesn’t have something to do with a certain botanically-attired gentleman?”

Louis reached for green thermos. “Just give me my coffee.” 

“Alright, I’ve said my piece.” Liam throwing his hands up despite the fact that he was driving

Louis slouched in his seat, “I highly doubt that.”

The sun had just been peeking through the low gray morning clouds on their drive down. As the sun rose and Liam and Louis set up the stand, it was shaping up to be a beautiful May day. Which meant the market was bustling with excitement. Customers were excited to be outside, wearing short sleeves and leaving the umbrellas at home. There was the energy of people remembering the world outside their flat or fast shuffle to their train station. For the first truly nice day, people were ambling through the stalls, taking in the warmth as much as the wares.

“We’re going for a PICNIC!” a pint-sized girl in wellies and a sundress declared at a decibel that broke through the buzz of the market.

“He’s right there, Eliza,” a thirty-something man said as he handed Louis his purchases to ring up. “You don’t have to yell. You can use your inside voice.”

“But we’re OUTSIDE.” Eliza emphasized by throwing her arms wide.

“I don’t mind.” Louis said to the dad and then looked down at Eliza. “A picnic! That means you need something special. He pulled a sheet of the vegetable stickers that Zayn had designed from out behind the till. “Find something nice that needs decorating.”

The girl smiled, “THANK you!” before she turned to another man with a stroller who had just walked up to the edge of the booth. “Daddy, I got STICKERS.”

As the family moved away, Louis noticed Harry watching them. He waved slightly awkwardly with a shy grin that indicated he felt silly for watching. Nick looked up from rearranging some seedlings and looked between the two of them. He reached under the table and handed Harry some papers.

Harry walked toward Louis practically bounding over cobblestones. All limbs in skinny black jeans and a flowy shirt. This black one had red roses on it in a rock n’ roll tattoo style. 

Harry smiled playfully. “Can I get some stickers?” 

Louis stuck the stickers back under the cash box. “Sorry, only for kids.” 

“Ah, well.” Harry said as he shuffled his feet. Did he really actually want the stickers, Louis wondered. Harry stared intently at his shoes, then looked up. “You’re good with kids.” 

“I got six younger siblings so I’m just used to having a ton around,” Louis told him.

“Wow, six! I just have one and she’s older than me. I’m the baby.” Harry grinned impishly. “I love your braces by the way.” 

“Oh, they were a gift from Liam actually.” 

“Anyways, Nick and I wanted to make sure you come to this party we’re having two Saturdays from. Bring whoever you want. You too, Liam.” He handed them both fliers. “Bring Zayn. I haven’t seen him in ages. He can’t be drawing all the time.”

“Thanks, mate. We’ll be there.” Liam grinned.

“You and Zayn, maybe,” Louis said. “Thanks for the invite, but I’m just too busy this time of year. After the market, I’ll have to go home and plant.”

“Louis, come on,” Liam protested. “I’ll help you on Friday and then we can just stay in the city.” 

At that moment, they heard Nick yelling from across the way, “Harry!” and they looked over to see him gesturing to the line of customers at the Pansies stand.

“Shit! I really hope you can come, Lou.” Harry looked him in the eyes before he turned away.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry fiddled with the stove, tapping it in hopes that the pilot light would catch. The range was always on the fritz, but he really wanted to make this cheese sauce for the nachos. He knew he could make it in the microwave, but it came out so much better this way. 

There were lots of things in the flat that were rundown that Harry didn’t mind so much. The light in the bathroom would suddenly go out. The hot water tank was hilariously small. And there was definitely a rodent problem. The landlord seemed to have no interest in fixing any of it. And, considering how cheap the rent was for the location, Harry couldn’t really complain. Still, when he mentioned the range to the landlord and he'd said, “Aren’t you boys just eating pizza and Chinese food all the time anyways? Just use the microwave,” Harry had almost lost his temper. 

Between school and Pansies and music, he didn’t often get the chance to cook, but he loved hosting and making something special. When Harry and Niall had moved into their flat last summer, they’d started a game night. It was nice to have something to break up the work week and, if Harry had time, he liked to make fun snacks for the evening. Their other flatmate had moved out and the new one wouldn’t be moving in until August so it was kind of silly for Harry to make something for just the two of them. Game night was one of his few times to shine. 

Harry had only finally gotten the flame to light when he heard the doorbell ring. He turned the flame to low and went to answer the door. Liam was standing there with a six pack.

“Thanks for coming, Liam! We’ve been searching for another player for ages, but everyone is always so flaky.”

  
“Thanks for having me. Zayn always has this art critique thing on Wednesday nights and I just ended up endlessly scrolling through Instagram so this is great. 

“I’m just making nacho, if you don’t mind keeping me company in the kitchen.”

As they made their way through the living room back to the kitchen, Liam admired the decor. “You’ve covered practically every inch of wall space with band posters.”

Harry started melting the butter. “Half of them are Niall’s. We met our first week of uni. I found him playing piano in the auditorium by himself late one night and we talked about our love of Fleetwood Mac. We’ve been friends ever since.” 

“It’ll be nice to hang out. I’ve only ever talked to Niall at parties and such.” 

“He should be here with Shawn soon. We’re kind of a small crowd tonight. A few of the usual crew are away for the summer. Sometimes, my sister comes but she’s out of town. And we can only convince Nick to come if he doesn’t have a date, which he usually does.”

“Speaking of dates…” Liam took a sip of his beer and seemed to consider his next words carefully, “I know Louis would kill me for interfering so do not mention anything.”

Harry poured the grated cheese into the roux and slowly whisked, waiting for Liam to continue. 

“He's interested in you. He just can’t get out of his own damn way. Honestly, he’s had a string of wankers for dates. You know I finally convinced him to try online dating awhile back and they were all no strings attached types. Which is fine for some people, but not for Louis, right?”

Harry wasn’t sure if that was a rhetorical question. He dumped the chips into a large glass bowl and started pouring the cheese over them. This didn’t really require his full attention, but he figured if he didn’t say anything Liam might keep talking. When he’d invited both Louis and Liam to game night, he’d obviously hoped that Louis would come, but he also was glad Liam took him up on it. He wanted to be better friends with Liam. He hadn’t expected that Liam was ready to use this time to fully commit to being matchmaker. 

“Like, when we were in high school, we came out to each other,” Liam continued. “I think before either of us told anyone else. We told each other our secrets while we weeded for hours on end. It was like, if we were going to get sunburnt and exhausted, we could at least dream about something different. We’d talk about how we were gonna move to London and travel and just imagined all sorts of things outside of a farm field. And the way Louis always talked about a future relationship, it was always a partnership. I had all these fantasies about going clubbing and random flings. I slept around a lot before I met Zayn, but Louis never did. He had this terrible boyfriend when he was twenty. As soon as Louis’ mum got sick, he just ghosted. And, like, I get it, no one wants to deal with that. It wasn’t going to last anyways. But I’m never gonna forgive that git. I think Louis just blamed himself. Like, if he were a better boyfriend, then it would have worked out. Fuck, Louis should tell you this himself.”

Harry wasn’t sure that was going to happen. He’d been trying to figure out Louis for weeks. “I know I’m kind of a dope around him, but it seems like one second he’s interested and then the next there’s a wall.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s why I’m telling you this. I want you to keep trying to get over them. Because I see the cracks. You know Louis used to be the life of the party. It was like you couldn’t have a bad time when he was around. He was so silly it would cut any weird social tension. And then all this shit happened to him and he just withdrew. But then he starts joking with you and I see it again.”

“So what should I do?”

“Oh, hey, mate, I don’t know. I’ve told you too many secrets. It’s not like I have a Louis handbook. I just didn’t want you to stop trying.”

“I won’t.”

“Also, if you break his heart, I will crush you.”

“Goes without saying.”


	7. Chapter 7

By Friday, the sunny weather from the beginning of the week felt like a dream. Louis had spent Thursday transplanting seedlings in a cold drizzle until he couldn’t feel the plants anymore. By then, the soil was so muddy. It wasn’t a good idea to keep going anyway. It seemed like the tiny plants would need miniature life vests. He’d made this remark to Doris, who’d returned an hour later with a drawing of carrots in tiny boats.

He woke up before his alarm to the sound of the branches hitting his bedroom window. He glanced out the window to see all the seedling trays he had neglected to put away yesterday blowing down the drive. In the field closest to the house, his tomato plants, which he had tucked in lovingly with protective covers, seemed to be shrinking against the gusts. And the white covers that had been secured over them were halfway across the field. 

Louis desperately wanted to beat all the other veg farmers to the market with giant heirloom tomatoes. He’d spent a cold January day with the girls by the woodstove circling pictures in paper seed catalogs and sipping on hot cocoa. “We’ll have a rainbow of tomatoes!” Phoebe had exclaimed. Green Zebra. Fuzzy Peach. Purple Bumblebee. They’d all planted them together on a Saturday while Ernest sang, “Bumblebee. Bumblebee. We’re gonna grow a bumblebee.” He’d planted them in the field by himself. It had taken all day. He’d finished the last row by headlamp. 

“If you’re the first to market with something, it’s 33% more likely that customer will return to buy that same thing the next week, even if other vendors have the same product,” Liam said when Louis was complaining about it the next night at the pub. 

It wasn’t actually a smart business decision to grow every color tomato. But so much of what Louis did was calculated to be a smart business decision. How much lettuce can I sell but not waste any? How many carrots can I possibly sell so, when something inevitably broke on the tractor, it isn’t a disaster? The tomatoes were the fun family project. They could walk out there before dinner and pick sweet cherry tomatoes that actually tasted like a treat unlike those tasteless imports at Tesco’s. Maybe then they’d understand why Louis couldn’t play or why their mum had kept this place going when she was working another job to actually pay the bills. He was trying to build something into their days that would fill them with joy. Even if he was bone tired by the time the hot July day came and they were eating the tomatoes. And, now, as the rain attacked his window and he contemplated going outside to recover the fragile plants, his bones could already feel how cold the wind was.

Louis pulled on a sweater and wool socks and padded downstairs. Lottie was sitting at the table, reading the gossip page and drinking coffee. Louis poured a mug and sat down. He was more of a tea man but he needed some serious caffeine to get going this morning.

“Guess we’ll have to wait a bit longer for summer,” Lottie muttered.

“We shouldn’t have been foolish enough to think it would start this early,” Louis replied.

“Want help with those tomatoes?”

“Nah, you got enough on today.” Louis wished he could say yes, but he knew Lottie truly didn’t have the time. It was a job that really required more than one person, but he had a system to do it by himself. Granted, with winds like these, it would be next to impossible. But he’d manage. The duo chatted about the latest royal family drama while they finished their coffee.

By the time Louis finished his regular morning chores, it was raining even harder, and he thought seriously about giving up on the tomatoes entirely. But he could hear Ernest singing, “We’re gonna grow a bumblebee.” He was going to save the tomato plants that would grow purple and red-striped cherry tomatoes even if it meant he caught pneumonia.

When Louis came in for lunch, he checked his email and saw one from Simon announcing the market for tomorrow was canceled. 

That night, he fell asleep on the couch watching Gogglebox and woke up with Doris poking him, asking if she could watch cartoons.

“Sure, love.” He sat up on the couch and pulled the blanket over both of them as he checked his phone.

“No excuses now!” read a text from Liam

Louis felt the crink in his neck from sleeping on the couch. Really, he ached all over from being out in the cold rain yesterday. The last thing he wanted to do was go to a party in Manchester which wouldn’t even start until he was normally in bed. Jesus, what a fun 28-year-old he was. 

“Octonauts, Louis!” Doris demanded.

“Right, right.” He switched the channel to her show. His phone pinged again, and he checked the text from Liam: “Zayn said you can crash at his place.” Oh, good. Sleeping on a couch for a second night. 

Another text came in: “Take a nap. I’ll be there at 7pm.”

Louis did in fact take a nap. He fell back asleep as Doris watched god knows how much telly. When he woke up, Ernest had managed to crawl onto the couch and he hadn’t even noticed. 

“Actually slept in on a Saturday,” Lottie commented as he walked into the kitchen. 

“Apparently, people don’t come to farmers markets in torrential rains,” he groggily replied.

“So I hear you are going to a party with this unexpected free time.”

“Ugh, can’t you and Liam let me run my own life. What if I had some other brilliant plan for my day?”

“You didn’t. Which is why Liam and I are in charge of your social calendar. Such as it is.” She put a plate of pancakes in front of him. She started making Saturdays a pancake party for the kids and then they usually went on some sort of adventure. Louis usually missed out because he was working. “Where are you all off to today? Maybe I’ll tag along?”

“We are going to the science center, but you are not coming because I see this distraction and I am not allowing it. Now what are you going to wear? If you’re finally going out then you need to look good. You never know what hot florist might be there.”

“Lottie, I don’t know what Liam has been telling you...”

“Just that you can’t stop making eyes at the well-dressed flower boy at Nick’s stand.”

“I don’t  _ make eyes _ at people.”

“And that is a problem,” Lottie replied.

********

Louis tried to gently push his way through a group of yelling partygoers to get to the keg in the back of the room. He needed another beer but he really needed to get away from the inane conversation he was having with a guy about real estate. Who talks about that at a party? He’d mentioned he had a farm and now has been forced to listen to statistics about land values. And every song that had come on was overplayed. Nick was going to start DJing at midnight but he’d let some other bloke do the early set and Louis couldn’t have come up with a more tired playlist if he had tried. 

So much for the glamour of Manchester parties over sleepy Doncaster. And then, as if to emphasize the point, someone barrelled right into him, spilling two teeming cups of beer all over the shirt Lottie had insisted was the “sure winner.”

“Oi! Watch out,” Louis said. He looked up to see that the culprit was none other than Harry.

“Ahh, I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy.” Harry exclaimed as he started rubbing Louis’ shirt as if he could soak up the liquid with his bare hands.

“I’m not sure that’s gonna cut it. I think we need to find a towel or something.”

“Stay right here.” Harry held up his hands as if they had a power to change something about their current situation. “I have a plan.” And then he disappeared into the crowd. Louis filled his cup and stood by the keg thinking of all the ways he could tell Liam and Lottie, “I told you so,” as he dripped onto the already sticky floor.

“Here.” Harry thrust something pink in his face. “This should fit you. And then, if you give me your other shirt, I can wash it and return it to you next Saturday. I’ll get the stains out.”

“How are you going to get this amount of beer out?”

“It’s called laundry,” Harry scoffed. Louis was surprised. Harry was usually implausibly cheery or earnest. “Don’t you know how to get a stain out?”

Louis felt a bit embarrassed. “Lottie does most of the washing up”

“Wait,” Harry paused for an unusual amount of time, to the point where Louis was wondering if he was supposed to be waiting for something specific. “Who’s Lottie?”

“Lottie’s my oldest sister.” Something flashed across Harry’s face at that revelation—maybe relief?—but it quickly passed. 

“Gemma would never do my laundry,” Harry responded. And then, to Louis’ quizzical look, he clarified: “Gemma’s  _ my  _ sister.”

“Oh, well I’m rubbish at most household things. It sounds like the fifties, but Lottie does a lot of them and I take care of the farm so it balances out. At least I hope it does.”

“Well, regardless, I’m in charge of this.” And before Louis knew what was happening, Harry’s hands were at his side, brushing his skin along his torso as he pulled the shirt over his head

Louis wasn’t sure if it was because he was standing in the middle of a party topless or because of the sudden physical contact with Harry but, suddenly, he felt an awkward chill. He grabbed the new shirt from Harry. The button down was distinctly  _ not _ his style, but he put it on anyway.

“Uh, c’mon.” Harry nodded to the stairs. “Have you seen the rooftop? It’s a more laid back vibe up there.” And Louis decided it was better to follow him then to stand alone in the corner in a shirt covered in flamingos. As he trailed behind, he couldn’t help but notice the impossibly skinny jeans Harry was wearing. Or rather he couldn’t help notice Harry’s bum in them. His thigh muscles accentuated with each step. He couldn’t help noticing until he walked right into him.

“Now who’s the clumsy one?” Harry smirked and nodded towards the door he was holding open for Louis. His unexpected chivalry the reason Louis had collided. Of course a man who says things like, “flowers will fade but love is forever,” would hold open doors for someone at a grimy warehouse party.

“I can’t be held accountable for your unpredictable movements.” Louis tried to ignore that fact that Harry had probably seen exactly where he had been staring. “And I really need a cigarette.”

Louis walked out onto the open rooftop, past a group of strangers who were clustered together smoking a bowl. He walked closer to the edge where there was some quiet and turned his back to the wind to light his cigarette. “So did you always want to grow flowers?”

“No, it’s just something I fell into. Did ya always want to grow vegetables?”

He took a drag on his cigarette. “It’s the family business. Don’t know that I’ll do it forever, just keeping it going.” 

Keeping it going because it felt easier to change nothing. Because someone had told him not to make any major life decisions until one year after a death. What control did he have anyway? And, now, five years on, he wasn’t sure how to change anything for fear the fragile existence he’d built for his family would break. 

But that’s not what you say to a cute boy on a rooftop who probably is just being nice because he’s spilled his drink on you. “So how’d you end up working for Nick?”

“Well, I met him at uni. I’m studying music and he came to our class to present about sound engineering. I like writing my music but all the technical stuff? I’m bollocks at that and Nick gets it. So I kind of followed him around trying to get him to teach me some stuff. He’s really helped me out. When I didn’t want to go home to Holmes Chapel for the summer, he offered me the job.”

“Didn’t want to go home?” Louis questioned, hoping he wasn’t prying.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love my mum and my sister but...” Harry paused, staring off at the sky as if he could glimpse home from this roof top and then properly describe it. “There’s just not much there in town for me.” 

Harry glanced again over Louis’s shoulder and he was just about to ask another question when Harry continued, “I just worked in a bakery and there was nowhere to play my music and I just….”

A sadness had settled into Harry’s eyes and it seemed to mirror the sadness that Louis knew must be in his own eyes when he talked about home. A complex sadness that is filled with love and history but also a longing and a questioning of if you ever really fit there.

He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Hard being the only gay in the village, eh?”

“Ha, something like that.” Harry smiled, but not with his eyes. “I mean people are really great there, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes I want to be with my people. I don’t always want to stand out.”

Louis stepped back and spread his arms out, fully taking in Harry’s outfit for the first time tonight. A pink polka dotted button down that was distinctly not buttoned and a black bowler hat to match his impossibly tight jeans. “I think you’d stand out anywhere, love. It’s not a bad thing.”

Harry’s smile started to reach his eyes, but before he could respond, a holler rang out across the roof. The stoners looking very annoyed that someone was disrupting their vibe.

“Oi! We’ve been looking everywhere for you two.” Niall had clearly found multiple drinks during his search. He threw an arm over each of each of their shoulders. “Nick’s started DJing and the dance party is actually good.”

Liam was a few paces behind Niall. “I tried telling him maybe you two wanted to do something other than dance, but he insisted we needed you. Or ‘a dance crew,’ as he put it.”

“Zayn is just sketching in the corner. And I know you came here to dance, Harry. As for you, Louis, I haven’t seen you cut a rug since New Year’s.”

“Cut a rug, Niall? You’ve drunk so much you sound like my grandpa.”

“Nope, I’m Irish, I can drink way more than your grandpa.”

“Ha! You haven’t met my grandpa,” Louis retorted.

They made their way back downstairs, Niall’s exuberance seeming to goad Harry into a similarly playful mood. The pair were bounding ahead, yelling silly dance moves that would really liven up the dance floor. 

“Electric slide!’ Harry hollered.

“Electric hustle,” Niall chuckled and sort of slid off the final stair into Harry. He was certain that Niall could not actually successfully pull off any of the moves he was suggesting. But Harry, he’d love to see him dance, once again taking in Harry long legs from behind.

Liam nudged him with his shoulder and met his eye. As his glance left Louis, he looked towards Harry and raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Sorry, if we interrupted, mate. Niall was just really enthusiastic. He started yelling about how no one should be alone at a party and how we were here to have fun together.”

“I mean... we were just smoking.”

“C’mon, man, you didn’t come here just to smoke.”

“Liam, it’s just a party. I didn’t come here for anything.” There was too much pressure. Couldn’t he just have a nice conversation with Harry. “Niall, where’s the whiskey?!”

And before Liam could question him more, Niall was lining up shots for them on the table in the corner of the dance floor.

Harry set the glass back on the table. “Let’s dance.” 

And, then, as “Don’t Stop Me Now” blasted out of the speakers, Harry grasped Louis’ hand and pulled him to the dance floor. Harry dropped his hand as they made their way to a clear spot in the crowd. As he did, though, he put his hand on Louis’ shoulder and leaned in. Louis knew it was so he could be heard over the music but he still felt a surge of anticipation. “I love this song. Don’t you?” 

“Who doesn’t love Queen?” Louis asked.

“There are people out there, Louis. Terrible people.” 

And then Harry started sort of flailing. Louis knew he shouldn’t be surprised that this was how Harry danced. He had managed to knock over half his vegetable stand. It involved a lot of waving his hands while thrusting his hips. But how could Louis not find this pure enthusiasm absolutely intoxicating? What Harry lacked in moves he made up for in the fact that he clearly felt the music. And so Louis started bouncing like an idiot alongside him as Nick moved through a run of solid bangers.

A slower song started and everyone stood catching their breath. Niall somehow managed to disappear and almost instantly reappeared with the bottle of whiskey. He tipped the bottle up to take a swig and then passed it to Louis. “I love this party!” he said, and then did some sort of dance stumble towards Zayn and Liam, who actually seem to be having a sweet moment swaying to the lyrics “ _ we got a love that is hopeless _ .”

“Man, Niall is gonna be hung over tomorrow,” said Louis. He turned back towards Harry and he lost the next point he was going to make about drinking water. Harry’s long hair was sweaty and cascading into his face, as he sang along “ _ why can’t I kiss you on the dance floor? _ ” 

Upon noticing Louis’s attention, he smiled, tilted his head forward and carded his hand through his hair before tossing his curls back. He stepped closer, and Louis was sure he heard Harry say, “Can I?” 

But the next thing he knew Nick was in space between them. “Harry, I need you for that announcement.”

“Now?!” Harry replied.

“If we wait any longer, everyone will be too drunk to remember. I wanted to do it earlier but you disappeared with this one.” Nick nodded towards him.

“Alright,” he nodded before turning back, “I’ll be right back, Lou.”

As the song faded with a single voice singing, Nick grabbed the mic, “Quick announcement before we start the next song.” He threw an arm over Harry and Louis took a swig from the whiskey bottle. “My man Harry has his first proper show next Saturday at The Bald-Faced Stag. You might have heard him opening up some of my gigs but he’s breaking out on his own. He’s brilliant, so be there. And, now, this song is for Harry...”

And then the opening notes of “You’re Still the One” by Shania Twain hit. What a weird choice, thought Louis, but then it started to make sense as he saw how animated Harry got for the song. 

Louis had thought quietly singing along to Little Mix was something. Now, as he watched Harry positively belt the words towards Nick, he questioned if he had understood what Harry was asking only moments before. “ _ Can I?” _ He was probably just riffing on the song. The music suddenly seemed ridiculously loud. Who could hear anyone?

“ _ We beat the odds together.” _ Harry and Nick clasped hands and sang to each other as if they weren’t on the small raised platform for the DJ. As if they weren’t noticeable by everyone, but especially him.

He can never read people. Fuck. He had to get out of this party. He was supposed to be crashing at Zayn’s but as he surveyed the dance floor it seemed as if it was filled by strangers. 

Fuck. He swigged from the whiskey bottle. 

Whatever, he hadn’t come to this party to whisper to Harry Styles on rooftops and in dark corners. If Lottie and Liam wanted him to have fun, he could have fun. He could be spontaneous. 

This was the last conscious thought he remembered when he woke up very hung over on Zayn’s couch the next morning.


	8. Chapter 8

“Are you just gonna stand there all morning and let him think that we’re a thing? You’ve already let him think it all week. I don’t understand why you didn’t just text him?”

“I don’t have his number, Nick.”

“Young Harold, we have mutual friends. It is 2020. There are ways to get someone’s number.”

Harry ducked back into the truck pulling out a crate full of dahlias to restock. As he stepped out of the sprinter van, Nick grabbed the crate from his hand and set in on the ground. With one firm hand on his back, Nick started shoving him back through the door. He turned back to the line and held up his other hand. 

“If you can allow us one moment. Thanks.” And then he followed Harry back into the van shutting the door behind him.

“I am not going to spend the entire summer watching you two pine at each other across some tablecloths and cobblestone.”

“I’m not pining. I invited him to that party.”

“And now there is a misunderstanding you need to set straight. I’m not saying march over and snog the man. I’m just saying: be clear.” Nick stopped his characteristic rambling and just stared at him.

“Um... I feel like... I just think that...”

Nick folded his arms.

“Alright, as soon as we get the line moving.”

Nick smiled and pushed him back out into the sun. “Thank you for your patience. We were giving you time to observe the dinner plate dahlias and consider if they are, in fact, the size of your china.”

Harry looked past Nick’s shoulder, past the ten or so customers, past the cobblestone lane that separated Pansies from Tomlinson’s. Louis was wearing black skinny jeans and his green farm shirt. He pushed the fringe out of his eyes as he spoke to a customer. A knot clenched in Harry’s stomach. Why had he let him be upset this whole week? What a coward he was. 

Or who knows, maybe he was wrong? Maybe Louis had gotten sloppy for a reason that had nothing to do with him and Nick. He had plenty going on with the farm and his siblings and who knows what else? He didn’t actually know that much about Louis, just felt like they had a connection.

But maybe he was misreading things. He thought about everything Liam had said about Louis. He was so sure they were going to kiss until Nick had interrupted at the worst possible moment.

“Oi.” Nick nudged him with his shoulder. “There’s a lull. Get over there. Profess your undying love.”

“Okay, I’m going.” Harry took a deep breath and gave himself a pep talk with each step between the two stalls.  _ Trust your instincts.  _ Step.  _ You felt something _ . Step.  _ It’s worth taking a risk.  _ Step. _ Look at him.  _ Step.

Somehow, in the short time it had taken him to walk over, both Louis and Liam were helping people. He picked a bunch of carrots, admiring the range of colors from a traditional orange to a bright yellow to a deep purple. Almost every item on the stand was like that. Things that could have been simple had a complex beauty to them. Not just functional vegetables, but a clearly curated range. Curated by Louis.

“Where’d you even find a purple carrot?” he asked Louis. Dammit, he’d promised himself he’d be straightforward.

“Oh, I think we’ve got more of those in the truck, Harry,” Liam said. “I’ll go check.” Liam rushed off as if this was the biggest sale they were about to make all day.

“I don’t usually get that drunk.” Louis stated, staring at the carrots in Harry’s hand rather than at him. Jeez, he didn’t care about that.

“You’re entitled to blow off steam. Just sorry I didn’t get to spend more time with you after Nick pulled me up on stage.” Louis started to say something that Harry could barely hear because he was so focused on finishing this thought. He was going to barrel through this. He didn’t want Louis to apologize for anything else and he didn’t want to lose his nerve. “I wanted to say I want to spend more time with you. I was hoping you’d come to my show. Nick and I are just friends. Just to be clear.”

“Oh, I mean... I knew that,” Louis replied, but from the way he looked up from carrots and actually met Harry’s glance, he knew that it had been good to clarify things. There was a glint of something in Louis’ eyes. Relief? Interest? Harry figured he might as well keep going despite the sudden fear he felt. He twirled one of his rings around his finger as a distraction. 

It was one thing to clarify the obvious misunderstanding, but what if he just stumbled into another one? He was desperately trying to read Louis. He hadn’t reacted to the statement about wanting to spend time together and, who knows, maybe he just thought Harry needed a new friend. He thought back to the dance floor and the memory felt dark and blurred with alcohol. Were they going to kiss or was that Harry’s wishful thinking? Fuck it. He could be wishful.

“And maybe we could get a drink afterward?”

“That’d be nice. Oh, Harry, I got to ring this up.” Louis gestured at a young woman with an armful of kale and herbs. He’d forgotten that anyone else was around. She smiled at both of them as if to apologize. Louis caught Harry’s eyes again. “That’d be real nice.”

Harry walked back to the flower stand with excitement already filling his chest. “He’s coming to the show!”

“Did you get his number? Just in case you need to text him the info?”

“Oh.” Harry couldn’t believe he’d been pining after this man for almost two months and he still hadn’t managed to get his number.

Nick laughed. “Don’t worry, I texted Liam and asked for Louis’ number. You two need all the help you can get.”


	9. Chapter 9

There were about fifty people in the dark, wood-paneled room adjacent to the main bar. Louis had nervously drunk two pints upon arrival and now he wasn’t drinking the third so much as using the glass as something to hold onto. 

Everyone in the bar was with someone and Louis was just awkwardly leaning against a tall, round table. Nick, Niall, and a crew of their friends were sitting near the front, but by the time Louis had arrived after pacing down the street smoking, their booth was full.

“Hi, I’m Harry.” The introduction broke through the din of the bar. “My job for the next half hour is to entertain you and I’m gonna do my very best.” 

The open act at this bar show had been a soft-spoken woman with a gorgeous voice but a lack of stage presence. The booth of people near the front, clearly her friends, had paid close attention, but everyone else seemed to be trying to have a conversation without being disrespectful. As the crowd became increasingly drunker, the conversation overtook her folky singing. But, as Harry began playing his first song, everyone was transfixed. 

The amateur recording hadn’t done Harry justice. The terrible speakers in that janky lorry of his didn’t do Harry justice. Anything short of seeing Harry live didn’t do Harry justice. Not that the stage in this tiny bar was an arena show, but the way Harry engaged with the audience was mesmerizing. Who even listens to the random guy playing guitar at the point of Saturday night when you are still trying to figure out if you even want to stay at the bar? 

Jesus, Louis thought, Harry exuded charisma when he was just fucking selling flowers, but now he was in his element. Harry added a sparkle day to day. As if those quiet smiles and floral prints were there to reassure anyone: there is color and kindness if you let it in. But, on stage, Harry was a mirror ball. Amplifying the light in the room and reflecting it back as energy. Audience members leaned forward out of their red-cushioned booths. The dark doorway that led back to the main bar filled with people drawn in by his voice and energy.

“ _ I want your belly and that summer feelin'...” _ Louis was grateful for his spot at the back of the room. It felt like Harry was looking over the whole crowd and singing directly to him. He wanted his belly. What does that even mean? He met Harry’s green-eyed twinkle. He wanted to know. 

“ _ Breathe me in, breathe me out.” _ I want to do more than breathe you in, thought Louis. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this attracted to someone. And they had literally only had a few conversations and gone to one dance party together. Not even together. And he’d left a jealous, drunken mess.

“High!” shouted half the bar as Harry sang the opening part of the phrase. This was the opening number and he already had the crowd singing along. The next few songs didn’t have the same gusto, but his unexpected Fleetwood Mac cover was another crowd pleaser as a closing song. Turns out that Harry wasn’t even the featured act, which Louis guessed made sense. Harry gave the requisite information about how to find his music and then encouraged people to stick around for the final act.

Harry hadn’t played many shows from what Louis had gathered. Still, he was annoyed on Harry’s behalf as people started crowding in from the bar after Harry’s set, evidently to see the next musician. Now being in the back of the room seemed like a curse as he tried to make his way to the front, around the maze of round high tables, rowdy folks hoping to get a refill, and new people trying to filter in. By the time he made it through the gauntlet, Harry was nowhere in sight. Niall waved him over to the booth he now occupied with only a pile of light jackets and bags.

“Sorry, we didn’t have space for ya. We thought you weren’t coming. You almost missed the opening number!”

“It took me awhile to find a parking spot.”

“Oh, well, I guess it is a small enough place. You can see everything standing in the back. Harry went to put his gear in Nick’s car. They’ll be back. And we can all squeeze into the booth.” Niall started to pick up everyone’s personal items and put them on the corner of the stage behind the piano.

“Your personal coat check?” Louis honestly didn’t know what to say to Niall, considering the last time he’d seen him he was fairly certain he’d almost puked on his shoes. But Niall had been pissed himself at the dance party and was cheerfully saying something about how he knew the bartender and his relocation of stuff was fine because if more people fit in the booth then more people could fit in the room and there was only one person on stage anyways.

He thought that Niall might keep rambling about the details of this bar when a low voice said behind him: “Thanks for coming.”

Louis turned. “Thanks for inviting me.”

“Come on, you two.” Nick put his hands out shooing them into the booth. “Shawn is starting. So get in there so Niall can get a front row seat for his boyfriend.

“Not my boyfriend,” Niall interjected, but Louis couldn’t help notice that he was perched as close as humanly possible to the stage without being on it.

Three additional people pushed into the booth and Nick introduced them but Louis lost their names as any personal space between him and Harry evaporated to make room for the new arrivals. The slightly taller man put his arm over him. While Louis’ shoulder eased into Harry’s side, his arm hovered above Louis’ head and over the back of the booth. A man was yelling at his friend about their football match in the next booth so Louis was going to blame the volume of the bar and not the fact that the entire right side of his body was flush against Harry’s for the fact that he had no idea what he’d just said.

“Sorry, I only heard that guy yelling about the missed goal kick.”

Harry leaned in, his hair momentarily falling into his face before he pushed it back. “Just saying that I meant the thank you. This is one of my first real shows. Looking out across the room and seeing you made me feel more at ease.”

“You looked totally at ease. Wouldn’t know you don’t do this every night.”

“It’s like they tell you to imagine people in their underwear...” Was Harry going to tell him that he’d been imagining him in his underwear? “I imagined I was just looking across the market at you. Just like any old Saturday.”

Louis laughed. “I remind you of a boring day at work.” 

“Shhhhhh,” Niall hissed before Harry could respond. “Shawn’s starting.” 

A curly-haired brunette bounded onto stage with one stride. Their conversation ceased as they turned toward the young guitar player. As the set went on though, Harry’s arm lowered ever so slightly and his fingers danced over Louis’ left shoulder, tapping out the rhythm. Louis wasn’t even sure that Harry was doing it consciously, but Louis was sure he’d never been so distracted by fingers in his entire life.

Honestly, he knew Shawn put on a good show, but if anyone had asked him to relay a single detail of the set, Louis would have only been able to recount the few times that Harry whispered comments: “I like his guitar on this one.” “Watch Niall lose it on this one.” And the moment he sang along, “I know I can treat you better.” Louis wanted to glance at Harry’s face to see if he was aware that he was singing this directly into his ear, but he also didn’t want the serenade to stop.

At the end of the set, he went to slide out of the booth as everyone went to congratulate Shawn, but Harry pulled him back in, hand grasping his bicep. “Hey, let’s go get that drink. If we start talking to this gang, we are going to get pulled in.” And then he looked into his eyes as if he wasn’t going to move out of this booth until Louis gave some indication of what he wanted. 

“Yeah, it’d be nice not to be surrounded by crowds for once.” God help him. This would be the actual date portion of the evening. He had agreed to this, suddenly remembering that he and Harry hadn’t spent more than a few minutes alone together. 

“This is yours, right?” Harry was holding up his shearling jacket as Louis was still ensconced in the booth. 

“Yup.” Louis wished there was a dignified way to slide out of the booth as Harry watched him. 

“Thanks for having me open, Shawn.” Harry managed to give him a sincere hug while also moving through the group towards the door. 

“You were brilliant,” Louis said to Shawn, sting out his hand. Shawn started to introduce himself, but Nick stepped in and clapped Louis on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re Louis, he’s Shawn. And you’re really sorry you have to run. Goodbye.” And then Nick playfully hip-checked him towards Harry.

Louis blinked, and then he felt Harry arm on his elbow, “We actually do have somewhere we have to be.” And then Harry gently pulled him through the crowd and pushed the wood door of the bar open. 

As soon as they got outside, Harry turned and looked at Louis. “Um, I don’t actually have a place we have to be. There is a bar a bit of a walk away that I thought might be nice.”

“I don’t really know this areas that well so I’ll follow your lead.”

Harry nodded and began walking. Louis fell into an easy pace next to him. “You don’t come to Manchester that much?” 

“I come for the markets, but I mostly go out in Doncaster. I lived there when I was younger so a lot of my mates are still there. And, you know, less of a drive.” 

“You didn’t always live on the farm?

“Nah, we moved back there when my grandparents started to get ready to retire. My mum didn’t really want to farm, but I think she thought the land should stay in the family. And the place we were staying was kind of a disaster so it made sense for us to move. And it gave me lots to do. We went from this tiny flat to this farmhouse which isn’t huge but there’s fields and barns. When I was little, I was almost never inside. Actually, it’s the same now, if I’m honest.” 

As he touted his outdoorsy credentials, Louis shivered. The mist was turning into a drizzle and they seemed to be walking straight into it. Harry looped his arm through Louis’ and leaned in. “We’re almost there.” 

Louis instantly felt warmer. Was it possible that Harry was some sort of human radiator? “How long have you lived in Manchester?” 

“Came here for uni. This will be my senior year.”

“You gonna stay after you graduate?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Seems far away. And I’ve settled in here. Speaking of which, this is the place.”

They’d passed several clubs with pulsing music, but the place Harry had led them to seemed to be a quieter pub. “I thought it’d be a little less noisy here. And they have incandescent cocktails.”

“Incandescent?” Louis found Harry’s enthusiasm endearing, but also had no idea what he meant. 

“You know... they're fancy but actually good. Balance the sweetness with a dash of bitter and quality alcohol. They buy edible flowers from Pansies. But they don’t just throw a flower in at the end to look posh.” 

“What do they do with the flowers?”    
  
“Oh, they make syrups and infusions.” Harry shared this insight as he settled into his chair. 

Louis had no idea what a flower infusion was. “I got to admit I usually have a lager so you’re gonna have to help me order.”

“I will walk you through the menu.”

“Flower Boy knows his way around fancy cocktail bar.”

“Flower Boy?” Harry mocked offense, but his eyes twinkled.

“Sorry, it’s what I called you before I knew your name.”

“I introduced myself the first time I met you.”

“I mean before I knew you. When all I knew about you was flowers.”

“What do you know about me now?” 

“That you dive deep into whatever you are doing. Music. Flowers. Clothes.” Louis hesitated and thought to himself about Harry’s steady but never pushy pursuit of him. He won’t say “me” outloud, but that was part of it. Two months of knowing Harry and they were finally on a proper date and Louis sat there wishing he could say what he was thinking. Jesus, he was rubbish at this. He glanced at the menu. “They have edible flower jelly shots?”

“Ha, we’re not ordering that.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were on board with this floral cocktail nonsense.”

“I’m still discerning about the menu. Why would I waste perfectly good flowers by encasing them in jelly? I’m not a sixties housewife.”

At that moment, a waiter appeared. “Can I get you started with something to drink?

Harry looked to Louis. “Is it okay if I just order for both of us?”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” It was a simple gesture but it warmed Louis’ heart that Harry checked. They hadn’t really had a chance to discuss any of the non-gelatinous alcohol options. 

“We will have a ‘Sunflower Margarita’ and a ‘Violet Gin and Tonic.’ Thank you.” He gave his full attention to the waiter before turning back to Louis. “We were talking about my school and moving to Manchester and all that but I barely asked you anything. Do you want to go to school or is the field your classroom?”

Louis felt slight panic. This was a simple enough question, but Harry was hitting a sore spot. “I mean, I was in uni when my mum got sick. And it didn’t seem important then.” He took a deep breath that felt heavy as if the air being displaced from his lung had gained an unnatural weight simply by existing within him. “And then after. I meant to go back. I did. It’s just... I was never focused at school during the best of times. Taking care of everything. Everyone… I’m just bad at motivating myself…”

Harry covered Louis’ hands. As he did, he leaned in, not because his gangly arms couldn’t easily reach but to get closer. He looked at Louis with such kindness. “Hey, Lou, we can talk about whatever. I’m hoping this is only our first date. I have plenty of time to find out all about you. If school stresses you out, let’s talk about something else.” 

Louis felt more at ease as Harry gently traced circles into the back of his hands with his thumbs. “You can decide what to order off the food menu since this place is all farm to table. They have tons of great stuff but I usually just end up getting the mac and cheese.”

Just then, the waiter placed their drinks down. There were yellow flower petals in the golden margarita while, in the G&T, the bubbles of tonic drifted by violet petals and thyme sprigs. Louis sipped the margarita. It tasted like alcoholic sunshine. “How is this so good?” 

“Well, for one, they use the sunflower seeds. Not just the petals!”

“How do you know that?”

“Like you said... deep dives.” And then Harry reached for the margarita while holding out the G&T. “Trade?” Louis nodded. Harry’s hand brushed his as they exchanged drinks. 

“Alright, this violet one is brilliant too. Now tell me what does this represent?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “Represent?” 

“I heard you talking about flower symbolism with a customer the other day. What about violets?”

“They’re actually a queer emblem. Back in the day, lesbians would exchange them to signal they were interested.”

“You tell that to your customers?’   
  
“Louis, we’re called Pansies. If people can’t handle us telling them about the gayest flowers then that’s their problem.”

Louis laughed. “You know how many times people ask me if I own Tomlinson Family Farm with my wife? That or they don’t think I’m old enough to own a farm. They look around for some higher authority when I tell them a price they don’t like.” 

“Anyone ever ask if you and Liam own it?’ 

“Ha, no. People see what they expect to see. We’re two nice, straight country boys. Our only sin is a few too many tattoos.”

Harry looked downcast and he mumbled something that he couldn’t quite make out, though he felt the sentiment. It was Louis’ turn to reach for Harry. He laid his hand on Harry’s ringed fingers. “Nevermind. All those ideas are bollocks anyways.” 

“Are they?” Harry’s gaze turned upwards and Louis felt the rest of the bar fall away. He felt a gripping in his chest. Because Harry wanted a real answer and somehow Louis knew he would sense an evasion.

“What?” He stammered ineloquently and gulped more of the gin and tonic then he meant.

“I just mean…..” Harry paused for what seemed like an interminable amount of time. “I think those ideas stick with us even if we don’t want them to. Even when we don’t realize. You should feel like you can be as bright as a sunflower.”

And then Harry tipped his head into his hands, brown locks falling forward, obscuring any hints for Louis to determine what he might be thinking.

“Harry?”

“Sorry, I just… that was too much, right?

“No, I mean.” Louis laughed. “I’ll have to think of what flower I can compare you to.”

Harry looked slightly sheepish, “Let’s order food. Tell me about all these vegetables on the menu.”

And so Louis did. He rambled for far too long about sugar contents in brassicas and that is why Brussels sprouts are food that is meant to be eaten at Christmas, not in July when they were bitter and imported from god knows where. Harry just smiled and said, “Maybe I like Brussels sprouts then and I never knew.” And Louis couldn’t believe that he seemed like he was genuinely filing the information away for months from now. 

His vegetables lectures faded into a more equitable back and forth on other topics as their food arrived. Louis knew time was passing as they talked about everything from goofy things that happened to them at work that week to stories from their childhoods. 

He was still surprised when the waiter came over. “Sorry, we’re getting ready to close.”

“Wait, what time is it?” 

“Nearly one. We close earlier than some other bars. Our restaurant has brunch and the kitchen...” Louis could vaguely hear him suggesting some nearby pub as he looked down at his phone and realized he had three missed texts from Lottie.

“Shit, I told Lottie I’d be home an hour ago. Ernest has this lingering cold and he hasn’t been sleeping well and she has to work early in the morning.” He started to pull on his jacket and looked at Harry. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Hey, Lou don’t worry about it. I know you have a lot going on. I can wait for the bill. You take care of your family. Tonight was really nice.”

“It was. I had a great time, Harry.” Louis glanced from Harry to the rest of the bar which was suddenly far brighter, with someone noisily flipping chairs onto tables so they could wash the floors. How long had they been the only customers left in the pub? He wanted to kiss Harry but the intimacy they’d shared only a moment before seemed broken. “I’ll call you.”

As he walked to the door feeling foolish like he had to say something more than that. He turned. “You never told me what sunflowers symbolize.” 

Harry smiled. “Next date.”


	10. Chapter 10

He and Louis had texted the entire week, but both of them were working crazy hours so Saturday’s market was the first time he’d actually had the chance to see him. 

“Guess you can’t convince Louis to stay for a hot date after work.” Nick nodded across the way.

Harry looked across the market and saw Liam setting a tiny Spiderman lawn chair in the corner of the tent. Louis was holding a tiny ginger girl who was pointed animatedly at the milk stand for some reason. He set the toddler in the chair and then handed her some coloring books. Harry watched as Louis knelt down and talked directly to her. She nodded solemnly. Or as solemnly as any little kid can as their ringlets bob from their efforts to be convincing. 

“Simon is gonna have his head.” Nick looked around for the market manager.

“But she’s just sitting there? Why does he care?” 

“Harry, you do realize Simon’s rules aren’t based in logic? Now, I can finish setting up here. Why don’t you go help Louis so Simon doesn’t have a reason to fine him for late set up.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

“Saturday mornings would be dull if I couldn’t watch the two of you hilariously court each other. Besides, I'm sure your love language is being ridiculously helpful with everyday tasks.”

As Harry strolled over toward the green tent, he watched Louis pass boxes out of the back of the lorry to Liam at a frenetic pace. Harry couldn’t help but stare at his bicep, the stag jutting out from beneath his sleeve. But Harry also couldn’t help but notice the tired circles under Louis’ eyes as he got closer. 

“I got this one!” He stepped in front of Liam who smiled appreciatively. 

Louis sort of held the crate in mid air staring at Harry. Wow, had Louis even slept since he’d seen him last week? He looked even more exhausted up close. 

“Lou, give me the damn thing.” 

“Sorry, Harry, I didn’t even see you come over.” Louis finally handed him the vegetables. 

“I’ll go start arranging the tables and Harry can help you with unloading.” Liam picked up a box of cucumbers and carried them over to a table as Louis started protesting.

“Don’t you have to help, Nick?” 

“He doesn’t mind. We’re basically already set up anyways. Now tell me what to do.”

For a solid ten minutes, this meant wordessly ferrying boxes from Louis to Liam. With each unloaded item, Louis seemed to calm down slightly. 

“Alright, can you set these herbs up in glass jars next to the till? Pour some water from the jug beneath the table and then arrange them so they look nice.”

Harry grinned. “My specialty.” 

As he moved to walk to the table, Louis grabbed his elbow and Harry wondered how on earth he could feel such a jolt from a tiny and innocent point of contact between them. “It’s good to see you. Sorry, I’m all out of sorts. This week’s just been a mess.” 

Harry looked into his tired but twinkling eyes. The color of bachelor buttons in a summer field. He reached back toward him and squeezed his arm. He wanted to fill him with the feeling of a romance that he’d felt from every touch of Louis. As if he were in that field of small but incandescent beauty amongst the mundane grass and stones. To give him a refuge from worrying about Simon and taking care of his siblings and trying to get back into uni. Already that was Louis for him. His troubles weren’t nearly as significant, but the excitement when he was with Louis banished them at least for a time. “Truly no worries, I know you have a lot going on. I don’t take it personally.” 

“Some people would.” Louis was clearly thinking about specific people. 

“Those people can shove it.”

Louis laughed in response and it was a sound that banished Harry’s troubles. He imagined he could spend hours getting Louis to not just chuckle but to throw his whole body into amusement. Damn, he was so lost on this man and they’d been on one actual date that ended with Louis running out of the room.

He sniffed the rosemary and imagined cooking a dinner for Louis with it. He double checked to make sure that the parsley and cilantro were not mixed up. And then a tiny voice said, “You don’t work for Louis.”

The little girl had moved from her chair and now was staring accusingly at him.

“Doris! What did I say about your Spidey chair?”

“That I had to stay in it or a mean man would yell.” She turned back to Harry. “Are you the mean man?”

Lous started saying something about being rude but Harry waved him off and bent down. “No, I’m Harry. What’s your name?” 

“I’m Doris.” She responded, but folded her tiny arms across her chest.

“I came to help Louis. Are you here to help Louis?” 

She nodded, but seemed skeptical. 

And then Liam exclaimed: “Oh shit, there’s the real mean man. He’s heading our way.”

Louis reached down and picked Doris up, plopping her back in the chair. “Remember what I said?”

“Be like a spy. Super quiet and draw pictures of the clues.”

“Tomlinson!” How could anyone bring this much negative energy to a farmers market?

Louis straightened up. “Simon.”

“We’ve spoken about the rule about children at the farmers market.” 

“And there’s also a rule that says that exemptions can be made at the discretion of the market manager. It was an emergency and I’d like you to make an exemption.”

“What exactly is the emergency?”

“My little brother has been sick all week. My sister needed a break from watching two toddlers.”

“Can’t you find a babysitter, Tomlinson?”

“Are you kidding me?” Harry hadn’t meant to interject but he was shocked at Simon’s callousness. 

“Don’t you belong at the flower stand?” 

“She’s just coloring. What harm could she possibly cause?” Harry figured he was involved now. And he had way less to lose. SImon could be angry at him, but Nick brought in tons of customers to the market that were exactly the type of people Simon wanted to attract. Plus, as far as Simon concerned, Harry was just a summer employee. Louis needed this market slot for his business.

“These standards are in place for a reason. There are liability and safety concerns. We cannot have unsupervised children.”

“It seems like your definition of unsupervised is a bit rubbish.”

“Harry, I can handle this,” Louis interjected.

At the same time, Liam picked up Doris. “Hey kiddo, what do you say we get a treat? Harry’s gonna come with us.” 

Harry wanted to protest, but Liam was staring intently in a way that clearly indicated he better follow. As they walked away, Doris asked, “What kind of treat?”

“You know I hadn’t actually thought that far ahead,” Liam muttered.

“What do you say we make a flower crown?” Harry suggested. He was going to make sure that this kid never thought he was the mean man. 

“Really?” She seemed intrigued, but not quite willing to commit, her arms still wrapped around LIam’s neck.

“Harry is a flower expert. He works over there.” Liam pointed to the blossom filled display. Bless Liam for his assistance in getting numerous members of this family to like him. 

“What kind of flower is that?” she pointed, clearly testing the information that Liam was providing her. 

“The kind of spiky one?” 

“It’s called spiky flower?”

Harry tried his best to suppress a laugh. This kid wanted to be taken seriously. “No, it’s called snapdragon.”

“Does it come from a magic land?” Doris asked, looking from Harry to the blooms as Liam set her on the ground to get a closer look. The buckets were overflowing with peach, pink, and yellow snapdragons and Harry plucked out one of the stems. 

He held the petals between his fingers so she could see the resemblance to a dragon face. “Do you see the dragon?” 

She looked at him as if he were presenting one of the dumbest ideas ever. “It’s a flower, silly.”   
  
He put on his best surprised kid face, “Whoa, you’re right! Wanna make the crowns while Liam goes and helps Louis.”

“Yeah, Liam, go work!” And then she ran toward the container of multi-colored zinnias.

“You got this?” Liam nodded to Doris. 

“Kids really do love me. I’ll bring her back when she seems like she’s not having fun.” He looked back over to where Simon and Louis were still arguing. Louis was gesturing somewhat wildly. Simon was scowling with his arms folded across his chest. 

“Simon is just kind of a bully. If we were all there, it would’ve just egged him on.” 

“No, I get it.” He kicked at the cobblestone with the edge of his boot. “I don’t like it, but I get it.”

“Oh, don’t worry. Simon may win today, but Louis is gonna win in the long run. He’s stubborn and now he’s got two of us backing him.” Liam clapped Harry on the shoulder.

“Nevermind, Styles, I’ve replaced you.” Nick gestured to Doris who was now trying to hand flowers to passerbys. 

“That easily, Nick?” 

“Oh, one-hundred percent. But I do think the position might be behind the counter.”

“Right.” Harry turned over a couple empty crates to make a tiny table and chairs at the back of the stand. They actually had a few vines that were already bent into crown shapes from a recent wedding so Harry laid those on the table with some scotch tape and flowers. “Hey, kiddo, come check out the flower-crown-making station.” 

For the next half hour, she stayed occupied with the pile of flowers. Harry had to keep darting over to help her with the scotch tape because she kept pulling too much off and getting it wrapped around things. She probably could have wrapped herself in it. He leaned over to Nick. “I’ll buy more tape.”

“Harold, just tell me this all ends in you actually dating that man. Defeating Simon would be a sweet bonus. That’s all the payment I need. Although, we may need to return her soon. I do actually pay you to restock things and such.”

“Yeah, I can take her back over now.” He straightened the crown on his head and bent down. “Should we bring Louis and Liam their presents?”

“Can you hide them? They’re surprises!”

“Oh definitely,” He used one hand to put them dramatically behind his back and lifted her onto his hip with the other arm.

At the rate this summer was going, he was going to wear a path between Tomlinson’s and Pansies by the end of market season. Doris whispered into his ear as they approached, “One, two, four.” And then she yelled right in his ear, “Surprise!”

“We present you with these glorious flower crowns.” Harry revealed them to Louis and Liam as a man who had been sorting through a pile of zucchini looked at them with annoyance. He apparently wanted to buy his produce without fanfare. 

Doris placed the crown on Louis and Liams’ heads in turn as if she were performing a coronation. And then Harry handed her across the table to Louis. “I should get back, but let’s talk before you leave, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

The rest of the market was a whirlwind. They’d sold out of bouquets by mid-morning so Nick had Harry assembling more from the pick your own section. He knew he was being a terrible employee because he kept glancing over at Louis. His fringe outlined in a delicate crown of sweet peas blossoms. The azure brought out his eyes. 

After he and Nick had packed everything into the van, he could finally go talk to Louis. It was an absolutely beautiful summer day and he had nothing to do for the afternoon. He’d planned it that way in hopes that Louis would want to spend some time together. 

“Thanks for minding Doris.” 

“What? My new friend?” He grinned at the girl who’d had powdered sugar smeared on her face from the donut she was eating. “We had a great time.”

Liam who was still wearing his flower crown poked his head out of the car, “Doris! I need your help with an important job!”

“Bye, Harry. I need to be important.” 

“Bye, Doris.” She ran off to whatever job Liam had invented for her.

“I mean it, Harry. Thanks for watching her. It gave me time to deal with Simon.”

“And he saw the error of his ways?”

“Oh no, he fined me a hundred pounds and gave me a ‘strike.’ The strike system makes no sense and is his arbitrary delusion. I was worried he’d throw me out, though, and I didn’t completely lose my temper.” Louis half-heartedly kicked a pebble. 

“I hate him.”

“Try dealing with him for years. It’s like a tiny amount of power makes him think he needs to lord it over people. We’re all just trying to have a nice market.”

“With flower crowns?” Harry reached up and adjusted Louis’, which had started to fall down his forehead. 

“They were a nice touch.” Louis smiled. “Look, I wish I could stay. I know we’d talked about doing something after the market. But I got to tell you, Doris seems sweet now but in approximately fifteen minutes she’s going to need to take a nap but not want to take a nap and she will transform into a tiny demon.” 

“Game night then?”

“Harry, I really… I want to say yes, but I’m just behind on everything. I don’t want you to think I can just pop over to Manchester on a Wednesday night.” 

As Louis spoke, he seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders. But his head was surrounded by blue flowers that added a whimsy to the moment. Harry was determined to keep bringing lightness to his life even if he didn’t think there was time and space for it. “Don’t worry, Lou, we’ll find the time soon.” 


	11. Chapter 11

“Louis, I got you. I can do the market today without you.”

“That’s bloody crazy. You’d had to leave an hour ago to do the setup by yourself. That tent is so busted, it’s practically impossible to set up with two people. Why haven’t I replaced that stupid tent?

“Louis….”

“Simon will fine us for a late set up and smile while he’s doing it. You know he thinks that farm from up north should take our spot and, after last week, he already gave us one of those stupid strikes.”

“Louis, your family has been going to this market for thirty years, longer than you have been alive. Simon fucking Cowell is not going to take away your spot for one late set up. Besides, Liz from that stand that sells goat soap is always ready with tons of time to kill because no one really needs goat soap.”

Louis let out a faint smile. That was true.

Liam pointed, “You know I’m right, I’ll just give her some veg and call it a day.

Louis wiped the tears with the back of his hand.

“I’m shit at this. I can’t stop crying long enough to get out of bed. I can’t even get it together to buy a working tent.”

“Fucking forget the tent.” Liam put his hands on Louis' shoulders. “Look at me, mate. When was the last time you took a day off? Like a whole day and just did fuck all?”

Louis had to admit, as he thought about it, he couldn’t remember. In the winter, it’d been slower for sure but he still had the kids to help with and there was always something that had sunk further into disrepair over the summer months. Or he sat staring at the accounts trying to understand what any of it meant. Fuck, he hated the numbers. How did anyone make this work? He tried to come up with a response.

“I mean...”

“Exactly, you are going to go back to sleep for as long as you want. But don’t mope all day. It’s okay to cry, but get up later and do something. Play that damn guitar.” Louis almost couldn’t see it behind the pile of discarded clothes and papers. “I got plans after the market but, on Monday, we are going to the pub. No excuses.” And Liam looked for affirmation from him. He wanted to dodge the eye contact. He didn’t want to make any promises right now.

“You’ve got to get on the road.”

“You’ve got to promise me I’m not going to find you like this on Monday.”

He looked away, but managed a murmur. “Yeah.”

The next thing Louis knew, the sunlight seems to be attacking him. Like Liam had put in a call saying, “Make sure he remembers no one feels good after they’ve slept all day.” 

Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept in. He still felt terrible. Like he’d been out partying until the wee hours of the morning. His eyes still felt tired, but he pulled himself up to tend to the overdue farm chores. 

Doing the basics of watering the greenhouse and checking on a few small things didn’t end up taking all that long. Then, he heated up some leftovers. Then, he stood in his bedroom wondering how he was going to fill his time if he didn’t do any more actual work. Living where you work is absolutely shit sometimes. No commute but the to-do list was always gnawing at the edge of his thoughts, even when he didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. He had a couple hours until everyone else came home. It had been ages since he’d played the guitar and the house was quiet so no one would hear how out-of-practice he was. As he picked it up, he knocked over a stack of papers and it seemed they settled across the only remaining clean patches of his floor. 

This room was a disaster, even by his standards. Today was not the day to tackle this problem. He moved back down to the living room to a slightly less cluttered zone. He worked his way through some chords. It’d been so long since he’d played anything. And then he strummed one of the first songs he’d learn to play. On the third time through, he began to sing.

_Take me to the place where you go_

_Where nobody knows if it's night or day_

_Please don't put your life.._

“Damn it.” There was an unexpected clatter and voice from the kitchen. Louis set the guitar down and Harry appeared in the living room doorway. He was wearing sky blue trousers with roses and a sheepish expression. “I… uh, I knocked but no one came... The door was unlocked, but then I… I think I broke someone’s toy truck.”

“What are you doing here?” Jeez, that sounded more unwelcoming than he’d meant. But Louis was self conscious. He hated people hearing him play. The living room did not seem that clean now that someone who was not a member of his family or Liam was standing in it. He was wearing soft but ratty trackies and clearly looked like someone who was not doing well. “Sorry, that came out wrong, just, uh, surprised, that’s all.

“Well, I was helping Liam pack up after the market and he said you weren’t feeling well and I thought you might want some company.” Harry looked intently at a spot on the carpet as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be saying this. “The way he said it seemed like not being alone might be a help. He’s real worried.”

Louis did not want to address most of that. “Thanks for helping Liam.”

Harry looked quietly at Louis and back at the carpet and then with a burst of energy, said: “What I do when I’m having a bad day is watch a rom-com. I say we each list our top three and then we can eliminate them until we agree on one. Also, I brought some of that fancy popcorn that the Millers sell.”

“That popcorn is really good.” 

They spent the next ten minutes debating their list of movies but Harry’s list system completely broke down when Louis revealed that he’d never seen _The Notebook_. “Harry, I thought you’d said we were listing our top three?”

“I mean we were, but _The Notebook_ is a separate category. It trumps everything else.” 

“If you say so.”

“If I say so? I know this is your house, but sit down. The decision has been made.”

As the movie played, Louis felt less inside himself. Less lost in himself. Focused partially on the film, seeing it through Harry’s eyes, made this thing a cinematic masterpiece. As Harry settled into the couch, Louis’ true focus was Harry. Watching his delight knowing the part that was about to happen. Chiming in with short anecdotes that wouldn’t disrupt the movie and pausing it if he had a longer point to make. Before he knew it, the credits were rolling and Louis nudged Harry with his shoulder. “So you want the tour?’

“I’d love it,” Harry replied. “Where is everyone by the way? Don’t you have like a million siblings?”

“Oh, Lottie usually takes the little ones on an adventure on Saturdays. And Daisy and Phoebe are over at a friend’s house.” They walked out the door and across the drive towards the fields. “What do you want to see?”

“I want to see what you see.”

Louis laughed bitterly. “I see a business that is barely staying afloat. I see all the weeds I should be pulling instead of spending my time with you. I see the way...”

Harry put his hand on Louis’ forearm, stopping his self-pity tour. “Lou, I’ve seen the way you talk to people at the farmers market. That’s not a sales pitch. I’ve never seen anyone who loves turnips so much in my entire life. I’m sure it’s hard, running this whole place. I want to hear about that.” He ran his hand up the cotton of Louis’ sleeve. “But I also want to know the good things you see. Why you keep doing it?” 

“I keep doing it because it’s what my mum left me.” Louis couldn’t quite believe he was so honest. But the way Harry reassuringly touched him and spoke made Louis want to be honest in a way he hadn’t in a long time. 

And then Harry reached down and grabbed Louis’ hand intertwining their fingers. “Lead the way to the turnips.”

And so Louis did. Because Harry was holding his hand. Because he didn’t flinch when he mentioned his dead mother and his voice cracked. And god help him, but it felt like the summer breeze had stilled around them. Harry was holding his hand asking him about turnips like he genuinely gave a damn about them. “Alright, I”ll show you the turnips.” 

The truth was Louis did love turnips. If he pushed aside the stress about money or tiredness from the long days, Louis did love farming. It felt like a world of endless learning and variety. On the good days, there was a growing edge. A way to be a little more efficient harvesting by working within your range of motion instead of overreaching. The soil science textbook he had took every last bit of his brain power, but when he started understanding a concept he felt as if a part of school that he’d been rubbish at wasn’t totally out of his reach. And the more he understood the science, the more he was convinced that it was all magic. And maybe if he spent his life at it then he would be a magician. A soil magician. A vegetable magician who brought people some joy. 

“So I only grow two types of turnips.”

“I’ll be honest, Lou. Until I met you, I didn’t realize there was more than one type of turnip.” 

Louis squeezed Harry’s hand. “That’s what most people think. There are loads of turnips. There are loads of everything really. I mean think of tomatoes. Used to be you’d go to Tesco’s and there are red tomatoes and that’s it. You can get big tomatoes and cherry tomatoes. But there is basically every color of tomato. I’m growing a little garden with the kids. They call it the rainbow tomato garden. We picked out all sorts of colors. But you can sell lots of colors of tomatoes. Someone figured how to make it hip and now everyone asks for heirlooms, even if what they mean by that is slightly imperfect and a slightly weird color. 

“Okay, but why do you love turnips?” 

“I don’t love turnips.”

“Louis, I watched you talk to a man for ten minutes last week trying to sell him a single bunch of turnips. Ten minutes! For two pounds!”

“It’s just... I think there are a lot of things people think they hate because they’ve been fed a rubbish version of it their entire lives. We’ve all been fed turnips that were boiled to death and then someone sprinkled a bit of salt and insisted we finish them before we can have dessert.”

“Dessert is really good.” Harry swung their arms as they walked down the dusty path. They could use some rain, thought Louis and goddammit if he was worrying about the weather instead of how nice this moment was. A warm, sunny day and Harry here to say things like “dessert is good.”

“Well, here are the turnips.” He dropped Harry’s hand even though, as he let go, he feared he wouldn’t have the courage to reach for him again. But he spread his arms at the acre before him. The acre of thin greens poking seven or so centimeters above the surface in long rows. “They’re kind of babies right now. I have the salad ones growing back toward the barn but these are the storage kind.”

“These are all turnips?!” Harry sounded incredulous as he looked between the tiny sprouts and Louis.

“I mean, I like growing things that keep. That will be there in March when the wind is in your bones and you aren’t even certain things grow outside.”

And then Harry interlaced their fingers again and tugged reassuringly. “Show me what else is growing now.” 

They wandered through the fields. Louis hadn’t walked around the farm like this in ages. He was always moving from one task to another or setting reminders in his phone as he walked around. But Harry noticed the wildflowers. When Louis had explained that buckwheat was planted as a way to add nutrients to the soil after cash crops were done, Harry declared the tiny white buckwheat flowers “the most beautiful useful thing.” 

They finally made their way back into the house because Harry had realized he’d hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast and Louis wasn’t even certain what meal the old lasagna had counted as.

Nothing looked ready to give a guest as a proper meal, but Harry started pulling things out of the refrigerator. “We could make chicken sandwiches with fresh tomatoes and lettuce. Do you have potatoes?” 

And the next thing he knew Harry had started boiling potatoes and sent him out into the fields for fresh dill. And then they were eating the best potato salad he’d ever had. “I didn’t know potato salad could be this good.”

“It’s the fresh ingredients. You did most of the work, Lou.” Harry smiled as he kicked Louis’ foot under the dining room table. And now it’s time for part two of our double feature… Notting HIll.”

“When exactly did I agree to this double feature?’

“Halfway through the last movie. Besides,” And then Harry did a dorky flourish with his back pack before he revealed, “I’ve been hiding more popcorn in my bag”

Louis put the dishes in the sink. “I’m definitely going to be hungry for that in like twenty minutes.”

“Always room for more popcorn.”

“I think I’ve only seen this movie once.” Louis mentioned as they settled onto the couch.

“Wait, really? It’s brilliant. Hugh Grant is at peak Bumbling Boyfriend. And Julia Roberts is playing a version of herself at the height of her Hollywood sweetheart phase. There is a vulnerability in her performance.” 

Harry picked up the popcorn bowl and put it on his lap pausing as if he really wanted to capture the essence of her performance. “How do you find love when you are a superstar? Like, it’s a real question. She has these hyper-specific problems. But, in the end, it’s the same for everyone. It’s the same for Julia Roberts or a shopkeeper or a florist. We all just have to let people see us. The pain of being judged by a movie-going audience or our friends at a dinner party who are trying to set us up or just our own inner monologue.”

Louis almost laughed. He was enamored with Harry’s obvious love of this movie. But he didn’t want Harry to think that he was laughing at him. “I love when people really analyze a movie. I just don’t watch a lot of romantic comedies. But I’m glad we are watching this.”

Louis mostly remained quiet until the part when Hugh Grant’s character started to get set up with a woman who actually said. “ _We only eat things that have actually fallen off a tree or bush—that are, in fact, dead already.”_

“Jesus, there is a lady like this at the farmers’ market. She told me the other day she couldn’t eat any root vegetable because it was murder but she had a bunch of questions about my tomato pruning to determine if I had hurt the plant too much for her to eat the fruit.”

“Had you.”

“What?”

“Hurt the tomato plant?”

“According to her, plucking off suckers was a terrible torture. I started to explain to her that it actually kept the plant healthier but she started talking about how I was using profit to justify my barbaric practices. Luckily, Liam intervened, told her we didn’t prune the peppers, and gave her a bunch for free.”

“She came to the flower stand and it turns out, nothing met her criteria.”

“Well, at least neither of us are on a date with her,” Louis said, unpausing the movie. 

They were seated with the popcorn bowl between them but their feet on the coffee table. His pinky toe brushed against the side of Harry’s foot. Jesus, had it really been so long since he’d been with someone that he was focused on this tiny point of contact? As Julia Roberts began her big speech, Louis glanced over at Harry who was quietly saying the words with her, _"I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her"._

Harry turned from the screen, “I just love how she puts herself out there in that moment. I hope I have the guts to do that someday.”

Louis breathed in. He had retorts in his throat, but somehow a truth came out. “Me too.”

They watched the end of the movie in relative silence. As the credits rolled, Louis decided to be brave. “It’s late. You can stay here. The kids are at our grandparents and Lottie’s at her boyfriend’s.”

Harry seemed to hesitate, “I, uh... I got to work at a wedding tomorrow morning. Got to meet Nick at 5am to cut the last of the snapdragons.” 

“Might it be better to drive in the morning?”

“Would you believe, I actually hate mornings? I’m rubbish for the first hour I’m awake.”

“I find that hard to believe, considering you usually show up at the market looking like you are ready for London Fashion week.”

“You just think that because you’re usually half asleep when you arrive. I know Liam is the true morning person. He’s let your secret slip.”

“No!” Louis mocked offense and put his hand to his chest.

The true offense was Harry pulling back the afghan and letting the uncharacteristically cool summer air in. He seems to untangle like a night blooming flower, unsure if this was truly their time to unfurl.

“I’ll walk you out. Between the kids toys and the random farm tools, it’s treacherous out there.”

“Are you saying I’m clumsy?” It was Harry’s turn to feign offense.

“Do you remember your entrance today?”

“Fair, fair.” And Harry clasped his hand pulling him up off the couch and back toward him. Their slow movement towards each other throughout the movies seemed benign. Louis could pretend he didn’t quite know where sinking into the couch ended and settling into Harry began. This act seemed a deliberate and swift coming together. They were facing each other rather than side by side and Louis couldn’t help looking into Harry’s eyes. The hue reminded him of early leaves of seedling. A shade of green that didn’t deepen because the plant was growing so quickly, focused on moving toward the sun. Jesus, he was going to think about Harry every time he looked at his seedlings now wasn’t he? He wanted to kiss him, but instead stood there awkwardly, the couch seemed miles away, even as his calf brushed against the cushion.

“Oh, hey, Louis. Who’s this?” He hadn’t even heard Lottie walk in.

“Lottie, I thought you were at your boyfriend’s?”

“He’s got to work early so I decided to come sleep in my own bed and not be woken up too early.” Lottie looked back and forth between Harry and Louis

“And that is my cue to hit the road so I don’t sleep through my alarms tomorrow,” Harry said. “But I’m Harry. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, you’re the flower boy, right?”

“That I am.”

As Louis followed Harry to the door, Lottie mouthed, “the flower boy is FINE,” and Louis shot daggers wondering if he had been transported into a bad romantic comedy.

The moonflowers were blooming along the fence outside. Harry gently cupped one of the blossoms. “I always wanted to plant some moonflowers but I don’t really have the space.”

“One of the only times I stop to smell the flowers is at night. Kind of neglected it, though, since it’s really just my pet project. I planted a bunch of different night-blooming flowers, but these were the only ones that took.” He gestured to the white saucers that seemed to produce their own light in the darkness. “I’m just usually rushing from one thing to the next.”

“Well, these are beautiful.” Harry’s eyes seem to twinkle with their own light.

Louis didn’t quite know what to say as they got to Harry’s car. What had this day even been? He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets, looking off into the dark night rather than any sources of light; human or otherwise. Harry reached out and enveloped him, murmuring in his ear, “I had a lovely day. Any time you need cheering up, you let me know.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, afraid and unsure of how to say more.

And then, Harry was in his car and Louis was left to watch as the tail lights faded down the lane. The warmth Harry had brought seemed to seep from his bones. This day could have gone so differently. When was the last time he had been genuinely surprised and relaxed? One structured day to predictable day had held him together for so long. Albeit, it all somewhat numbed together. He stared into the night. He wasn’t sure he was ready to feel anything outside that predictable numbness. Where had all these feelings of today, from grief to desire, been? And if he let them out, could he ever hide them away again?


	12. Chapter 12

Trying to date a farmer in July was maybe the worst idea Harry had ever had. Or maybe it was this particular farmer? Harry couldn’t quite tell. Louis kept texting he was sorry for being busy. “So behind on storage crop plantings,” read one text. “I hate restaurant deliveries,” said another. It was a busy time of year for sure. It’d been a blur of early morning harvesting and wedding gigs with Nick. But, when you’re infatuated with someone, don’t you find the moments to be together? And you spend every other spare moment fantasizing about being together. 

There were a few moments, when Harry doubted that Louis felt the same connection. He’d wanted to kiss Louis in the garden, the porchlight softly illuminating him. But he’d thought about how, when he arrived that day, it’d been clear how much pain Louis was in. They’d ended up having such a lovely time together. Harry didn’t want their first kiss to be connected to a day that started with that pain. He just hadn’t realized a couple weeks would pass during which he would have to replay that day over and over because they didn’t have the chance to do it again. Sometimes, the replay in his head made Harry start to doubt their connection, but then his phone would ping with a picture of a wildflower and a suggestion about which rom-com they should watch next. 

But whenever Harry pressed about when they were going to get together to watch a movie, Louis had another excuse. And Harry knew they were all legitimate. He also knew that he was not waiting until the frost to have another date. After getting into a back and forth about the best queer romantic comedies, Harry just put it out there: “ _ Imagine Me and You _ . Saturday. 7pm. My place.”

And that was how Harry had found himself pacing his flat that evening with Niall growing more and more exacerbated. 

“Harry! I cannot watch you try on one more outfit. Also, we can’t see your floor and Louis is due to be here soon.”

“Not helpful!”

“I think it is, mate. You cleaned the apartment to a level never seen before in the entire time we’ve lived here.” Niall gestured to the floor. “Except now we have to put all of this back into the closet. You have a nice movie to watch. You cooked a dinner that smells absolutely delicious. I would very much like to eat it but I should leave before he gets here. You’re wearing that outfit and we are picking all of this up.”

Harry watched for a moment as Niall started haphazardly stuffing clothes into the closet before he decided he was probably right and joined him. His bedroom started to resemble it’s regular clean state and it helped to calm him just a bit. Until he looked at the time. “Shit, he should be here any minute. You need to leave.”

“Thank you for giving me the whole place for the night, Niall. You’re such a good flatmate. I don’t know what I’d do without your support.” 

Niall good-naturedly murmured as he grabbed his wallet and keys off the kitchen table. “See ya.”

Harry glanced in the oven just to make sure nothing was burning, even though he knew he’d left it on warm. He thought about changing his shirt but at this point his clothes were all one jumbled mess. He’d stayed occupied most of the afternoon cooking and cleaning and bugging Niall. Now, he was only left with his nervousness. He moved the vase of sunflowers over on the table and managed instead to send the water cascading across the table. “Fuck.” At least, he wasn’t classy enough to have a tablecloth, he mused, as he wiped up the mess and refilled the vase. 

The doorbell reverberated through the apartment. Harry took a deep breath making sure to inhale through his nose. His eyes closed, he sighed to himself. “You got this.”

Louis stood on the doorstep wearing a slate blue T-shirt that brought out the color of his eyes. His fringe fell across his forehead and framed his face. The tousled hair was supposed to look natural but Harry knew that it’d required a product. Harry’s heart beat fast with excitement. Seeing Louis, someone who hated to get dressed up, with styled hair made this date feel all the more real. 

“Hey, Louis. Come on in.” He stood aside and gestured maybe a bit too broadly. As they walked further into the apartment, they were both silent for what felt like a few beats too long. “I made lasagna. We can eat whenever you’re hungry.”

“Could we eat now? I’m famished. I only realized on my drive over here that I never ate a proper lunch.” 

Harry wasn’t actually that hungry yet, but eating gave them something to do in the apartment that seemed a bit too quiet all of a sudden. He hit play on the stereo not caring what was on just to fill the silence “It’ll just take about ten minutes to warm up. You want a beer?”

Louis nodded and as Harry took two out of the fridge, he looked at some of the ticket stubs on cabinets. “You went to all these shows?”

He stepped closer to hand him the beer and point out a couple stubs, “Oh, yeah, I try to go to as many concerts as I can afford. Nick gets last minute deals sometimes when he’s working sound. Even if it’s not something I'm totally into, it’s interesting to see people’s different performing styles.”

“I wish I got to more shows.”

“We should go to one together. I mean, where I’m not performing.”

“That’d be great. Like, really.” Louis turned to face him and leaned with his hip against the white countertop in a move that was probably for comfort but felt seductive nonetheless. Harry wanted to grab and kiss him but instead tried to focus on what he was saying. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, Harry. It’s just I have this rhythm with work and family and the same few friends and it’s just been so long since I’ve disrupted that in any way. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with you. It’s just...”   
  


And now Harry’s desire blended with an intense need to reassure Louis. He reached out and gently put his hand around his waist pulling him toward him. Louis let out a surprised breath and one of his hands fell to Harry’s shoulder to steady himself. “Can I kiss you, Lou?” 

He felt tense with anticipation and could feel the same in Louis’ back as he sharply inhaled at the question. And then Louis tilted his head forward with a softer exhale. “Yes.” Their lips bumped with a little too much force as both men moved toward each other at the same moment. Harry reached his hand to cup the side of Louis' face. The stubble of his five o’clock shadow brushed his palm but the action steadied both of them. Their lips started to glide over each other smoothly and with an intensity that made Harry feel incredibly turned on. Jesus, this had been worth the wait. 

“This could be a good rhythm to get into,” Harry mumbled as they both took a breath. 

“Oh yeah.” And then Louis’ stomach audibly rumbled. “I guess I really do need to eat something.”

“The rhythm can involve eating and then more kissing.” 

Louis grinned. “And I thought this night was going to involve you showing me, ‘a queer masterpiece….an absolute travesty that I haven’t seen it.’ Not that I don’t want to keep making out, but I’m finally in your house and we have all night.” 

“It is a travesty.” 

They ate their lasagna while Harry rambled too much about the movie they were about to watch and Louis admitted to only having seen Lena Headey in action films and  _ Game of Thrones _ . 

As they settled down on the couch, Harry thought back to Louis’ house. He’d barely watched the movies, he was so focused on every touch between the two of them and as he debated making a move. Now they could settle into their desire to be touching as Harry threw an arm over Louis’s shoulder. Although, Louis threw himself forward toward the screen almost immediately. “She sees her as she’s walking down the aisle to marry someone else?”

Harry tugged on his shoulder pulling him back for a quick kiss. “Just watch, Lou, I promise it works out.”

They got to the scene where Luce and Rachel are walking back from the arcade without Louis saying too much more. “No wonder you like this movie so much! They are constantly talking about flower symbolism.” 

Harry paused the movie. “I loved it before I was a florist. I love that Piper Perabo’s character knows as soon as she sees Lena Headey, but the movie is about her being willing to accept and follow that realization. Not just her sexuality, but that she could have a love that is magical and intense.” 

“Do you think people really fall in love at first sight?” 

“Not like in movies.” Harry paused and played with a thread on Louis’ shirt. “I think… it’s a dramatization of a spark. A sexual attraction, for sure, but I think the spark is the universe telling you to pay attention. To care for the spark. “

Louis looked uncertainty down at his hands. “You never told me what sunflowers symbolize.” 

“Adoration. Loyalty. Strength. You’ve grown sunflowers, right?” Louis nodded. “So many flowers are gorgeous but fleeting. A sunflower will bloom in your garden for weeks. It endures. Other plants can grow up it’s stem and the sunflower isn’t harmed. A supportive brightness. It’s strong and beautiful. Like you.” 

Louis scooted forward on the couch again and looked back into Harry's eyes. There was a sadness that made Harry want to pull Louis back in but he also wanted to give Louis space to speak. “I’m not strong. I’m not who you see me as.”

“Give me the chance to find out.” 

And then Louis closed the distance between them on his own, kissing him with a hunger that had been missing in the kitchen. Louis’ hands tangled in his hair and he sort of fell into Harry pushing him back into the couch. The movie was forgotten. Harry encircled one arm around Louis' upper back, the muscle from all the farm work moving beneath his shirt. As he wrapped his other arm around Louis’s lower back, he squeezed his perfect ass. “Been wanting to that since I first saw you,” he murmured. They remained entangled like that for a while. 

Harry felt himself moan as Louis sucked his bottom lip. Louis started tugging at Harry’s shirt, “I’ve been wanting to do this since you wore that sheer top at the market.’ His warm kisses dotted Harry’s neck. “The one that made it clear how fit you are.” 

It took all his willpower to pull back. “What?” Louis looked at him with half lidded eyes. “Do you not want to?” 

Of all the people to think of at this moment, Harry thought of Liam. What he’d said about the men who’d slept with Louis and then ghosted. He half wondered if maybe Louis sought out men who didn’t want commitment. Because he seemed so scared of getting hurt. Harry didn’t want to hurt Louis. And he didn’t want him to mistake this for a one time thing. 

“I do.” Harry was so turned on right now and he could feel Louis’ cock against his leg. He desperately didn’t want to stop this. But he was going anyway. “But not tonight… I just don’t want to move too fast.”

Disappointment flickered across Louis’ face, “Oh, yeah, totally.” Fuck.

“But can you stay? I’d like to keep doing this.” 

Louis nodded and kissed him tenderly. “Whatever you want, Haz.”


	13. Chapter 13

“WELCOME TO THE RAINBOW PARTY HAWWY!” Ernest couldn’t be any louder if he tried, his welcome seemed to come not just from his tiny lungs but from the tips of his toes. Which, to Louis’ chagrin, were absolutely caked with dirt due to his apparent allergy to shoes.

“It’s a tomato party!” Doris yelled, wanting to best her brother.

“RAINBOW!”

“NO! TOMATO!”

Harry bent down between the two which was impressive since they seemed an instant away from one shoving the other but he managed to open a space between them. “Can it be a flower party as well?”

The toddlers both hesitated, clearly torn between their desire to be the correct one and their desire to win over their new best friend. They both blurted out questions at the same time.

“Are they rainbow flowers?” “Can we eat them?”

Louis' heart was warmed by the laughter that emerged from Harry. Bemused and yet kind enough to take their questions seriously, something the duo was attuned to these days. “Uh, yes. We can eat them and I brought so many colors.” He looked solemnly into each of their eyes “I’m gonna need your help though. I need assistants to bring the flowers to the party area. I don’t know where it is.”

“We can show you!”

And Harry smiled back at Louis before he grabbed their hands. “Hi, Lou.” Before he could reply, Harry was pulled out of the door by Ernest and Doris. How had this happened? Who was this man who suddenly was coming to family parties and seemed to enjoy his siblings’ company? Since the date at Harry’s house, they’d been spending all their free time together. Which admittedly wasn’t much time, so maybe that’s why their entire relationship still felt a bit unreal.

His contemplative stare at the yellow door was interrupted by Zayn walking through it.

“Liam says it’s time for the burgers now that our last guest has arrived.”

“Bottom left of the fridge.” Louis pointed as he returned to grating a carrot for salad, one of the only cooking tasks Lottie and Liam had deemed him “capable of.”

“He also says, and this a direct quote, ‘He brought a carload of flowers to your hokey family party, you better bang him tonight.’”

“Fuck!” Pain shot through his knuckle. He’d started grating his finger. “Now I’m bleeding Zayn! Why would you say that?”

“Just the messenger.” And, as if the kitchen entryway had become a revolving door, Zayn passed Harry on his way out.

“What happened?” Harry asked, noticing the blood that was now dripping on the counter. He stepped forward, grabbing both of Louis’ hands in his own.

“Just grating some carrots and thought I’d add some skin. There are some plasters on the top of the fridge. If you can grab one, I’ll be fine.”

Harry then proceeded to quite dramatically apply antiseptic and the bandage to his index finger before bringing it to his mouth and looking into Louis eyes. “A kiss to make it better.”

“I think I may also have a lip injury.” Even as he made the joke, he felt like a total goof but Harry started giggling as if this was not at all a corny joke.

Then he pulled Louis’ hand to his chest. “Let me heal them as well then.” Harry’s gaze flicked from his lips and back to his eyes. And then he kissed him with a tenderness that seemed designed to heal more than just Louis’ lips. “Come enjoy your party.”

He’d been so busy running around this morning doing chores and random kitchen tasks as directed by Lottie and Liam that he hadn’t been able to take in the party decorations. Between the two oak trees in the yard, Daisy and Phoebe had hung multicolored cloth pennants that fluttered in the August breeze. He remembered as kids visiting their grandparents, he and Lottie would race to see who could climb them the fastest. As kids, they could reach the precarious top. Those trees had seemed so tall when he was young. Fearing he’d fall but even more frightened that he’d be bested by his kid sister. Those trees still seemed so tall. It was what he imagined.

The picnic tables were scattered with zinnias, sunflowers, and bachelor buttons. Liam was flipping burgers on the grill and looked over. “These kids only want to eat tomatoes.” 

“Tomato party!” Ernest and Doris exclaimed. 

Lottie rapped on the table since they were drinking out of plastic cups.”And now, the time has come! For the great unveiling!”

“NO!” shrieked Doris. “For tomatoes.” 

“That’s what she meant,” sighed Daisy

“Anyways.” She raised her plastic cup again to the smattering of friends who’d been invited to a barbeque a few days ago. “To Louis, for growing a bunch of weird tomatoes that his siblings wanted even though he works all the time to keep this place afloat.”

“Tommo,” shouted Liam. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s eat,” said Louis. “We have to decide which of these tomatoes is the best.” 

The afternoon stretched into evening. The sort of lazy summer day Louis always wanted but rarely found. The kids got sticky and then Niall appeared with water balloons and then, next thing Louis knew, Liam was pouring an entire bucket of water over his head. As the twilight became night, every other guest besides Harry had gone home and the rest of his family had disappeared into the house. 

They laid next to each other on a colorful quilt waiting for the stars to start coming out, Louis with his head on Harry’s chair. “I can’t see them in the city,” Harry said. “You have such a special place here, Lou. Thanks again for including me.”

“You fit here. My family likes you more than they like me.”

The crickets echoed in the sweet summer silence. And then Harry had to ruin it. “Did you think Liam was serious about his offer to become business partners?” 

Louis sat up. “He always says that. He doesn’t mean it. Besides, I’m going to school in the fall.”

“Why?’ 

“What?” 

“I mean you know how to run this business. So what if you never went to school? You don’t need to. And if Liam wants an equal part in the farm, why not? You two work great together. And without as much financial pressure you wouldn’t be as stressed. You had such a great time today.”

Louis stood up and started walking to the house. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Why not, isn’t that what partners do? They talk about their lives?” Louis desperately wished Harry wasn’t following him into the kitchen. He didn’t know the answers. He didn’t want to confront the fact that he still hadn’t registered for school. Or that Liam would resent being tied to this place in the long run. Or that Harry just called him a partner when they hadn’t even slept together.

“Lou, you are so good at this. It’s obvious that you love it. Your success doesn’t have to look like other people’s. Why go to uni? So you can have some sort of cliché coming-of-age experience. To become the gay man you want to be by sleeping your way through the dorm? You’re holding on to some sort of fantasy narrative and never questioning whether it’s the narrative for you.”

“What? I can’t have fun one night stands? What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing!” Now Harry was full on yelling and Louis was worried that he’d wake everyone in the house.

“Oh right, nothing.” Louis threw up his hands, though honestly he wanted to throw something else.

“You aren’t listening. I’m saying: is that what you want? There are so many ways to be and to love and, fuck, and maybe you are caught up in this idea of what you missed and how you should be that you’ve never considered what you actually want and what feels good for you.”

“And what feels good is me being with you?”

“Yes.” Harry had started to cry, but he still sounded so certain. “Yes, Lou. Don’t deny that you feel this. It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared. All I’m asking is that you be honest. With me, but mostly with yourself.”

“How do you know I’m not being honest with myself?”

“I know you.”

“We’ve known each other for four months.”

“And I know that you think that milk should be poured in your tea first. I know you’d eat the grossest root vegetable from your cellar before you’d eat an avocado. I know that your right boot has a hole in the bottom of it that you think no one has noticed but every time you come in from the rain you go upstairs to change your one wet sock. I know you think you don’t deserve new boots, but you do. You need someone to tell you that you deserve warm feet. And there will still be a way to afford to buy passes to the zoo for the kids. I know you write letters to you mum asking her how to be a good parent.”

“Fuck you. Get out.”

“Louis, you don’t have to be alone.”

“Life isn’t a romantic comedy. People don’t just fall in love at their flower stands and live happily ever after. And you don’t know anything about my mum.” He was already a twisted ball of anger and sadness and fear but, as soon as he mentioned his mum, he could feel that his eyes were welling up. He couldn’t cry. He just needed Harry to leave.

“I know you think this might be too much, but you gotta feel it, right? What we have is special. It’s not just a fling.” Jesus, Harry. Louis closed his eyes. No.  _ No _ . Why couldn’t this be a fun summer fling? He couldn’t love Harry. He didn’t know how to let him in. He’d break him. This sweet boy who’d brought him flowers the first day they’d met. Who was so open with his own heart and gentle with other people’s. He didn’t know how to love Harry. He opened his eyes and looked back at Harry’s apologetic albeit expectant face.

“Harry... I...” Louis wanted desperately to be anywhere else. Everything in his body told him to run but he was in his own house. He didn’t want to yell at Harry but he didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want to cry, he thought, as a tear rolled down his left cheek. “Harry, I just really need you to leave now.”

And Harry, bless him. Could he hear the desperation in the request? He picked up his bag and phone off the table and slowly rose, pushing the chair back in with a slow movement that didn’t seem to be to delay his exit but to insert a level of calm into their argument. And then, as he reached the door, he pulled it open and turned with the same quiet certainty and said: “Lilies mean I dare you to love me.”

“What?”

“Sometimes, a dare can work out. If you follow through on whatever it was inside of you that caused you to make the dare in the first place.” And Harry’s glance was full of daring intention as he met Louis’ eyes before he shut the door behind himself.

Louis closed his eyes. They felt heavy. Everything felt heavy. Usually, being with Harry made him feel light. Harry took away the heaviness. Even when he was scared. Even in the beginning, when he was so afraid that he was misreading Harry’s intentions or that he would say something asinine. There was a lightness to the terror of his crush—as if he wasn’t on the ground. Butterflies in your stomach, they say. Louis’ fears and anxieties usually felt like rocks. He thought maybe he knew what it felt like to be crushed to death in those worst moments. More weight. As if his chest was dropping further into his body. 

Butterflies are airy creatures. They could never exist among the rocks in his chest and the acid of his stomach. Where did the air come from when he was with Harry? Where did the rocks go? This sweet boy who’d brought him flowers the first day they’d met. He thought about the white-tipped flowers with purple centers and he gasped from his chest. He was full on bawling now. Only now. Only now, after replaying that moment so many times when he was daydreaming about Harry. Only now, did he truly think about the flowers from that day they met. They were lilies.


	14. Chapter 14

“Maybe I shouldn’t have left when I did? I mean I don’t think he wanted to be crying in front of me but also I said so much and then just left?”

“It’s okay to give people space sometimes,” said Niall

“Tell me about this space you give other people? You are one of the most intense daters I know.”

“This is not about me. This is about you and Louis. Do you think I’d give you advice I’d take myself?

“Ahh, we should go to bed. It’s nearly one am. It’s not like we’re gonna solve this now. It’s been days, and he hasn’t so much as texted me.”

NIall stood up and started clearing their mugs when the bell rang. 

He ran down the stairs. Who on earth was ringing his bell now? Nick, probably having had some terrible date and needing to vent? It was Thursday. Or Friday, depending on your definition. 

Harry looked through the peephole and saw Louis pacing back and forth. He had his navy hoodie pulled tight as if it was going to protect him from something. Certainly not the cold, even if Louis did tend to catch a chill more than anyone he knew. It was drizzly, but it was also August. One of the few weeks where it felt like proper balmy summer. Louis took a drag from his cigarette with one tattooed hand while he tapped his leg with the other. Harry took a deep breath. There was so much he didn’t know, and he wouldn’t find out without opening the door. And he couldn’t leave Louis out there to pace. He looked so stressed and Harry just wanted to know. After their fight, he couldn’t take the wondering anymore. He pulled open the door.

Louis pivoted from his pacing to step toward Harry. “I dare you to love me,” he said.

Harry fucking inhaled. But he couldn’t exhale, breath or words. He felt slower than usual. Like he was paused and Louis was being fast forwarded. He’d thrown his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and was grinding it into Harry’s stoop with an energy that seems like it should be expended elsewhere.

“I just. I don’t know where to put that. Like... why on earth would you give me flowers that mean love me when we had never spoken?”

“I mean… it’s actually tiger lilies that mean I dare you to love me,” Harry told him. “White lilies ironically symbolize chastity. And I don’t know what purple would stand for. It was still a dare, though. I was working with what I had. I figured you, uh, wouldn’t get the symbolism, but I felt that spark.”

“I do feel it, Harry. I just don’t know if I have the faith to nurture it like you do. I think you have this idea of an idyllic farm where we make love in a field of flowers. But there’s mud and no money and I get so depressed I can’t even finish one of my uni clases.”

“Lou, give me credit. Would you have been so angry the other night if I didn’t see some truths. Maybe not all of them, but some of them?”

Louis inhaled a faltering breath and it took so much of Harry’s energy not to reach out for him but he still hadn’t stopped pacing. “You talk about getting flowers at weddings. You know when I got the most flowers? When my mother died. It felt like a waste. They just shriveled up all over the house and I didn’t have the strength to clean them up. It felt like I’d been given this thing that was dying and, once the color was gone, all the people were gone too and I just had these corpses. I just wished I had planted a field of flowers for her when she was alive.”

And then Harry couldn’t stop himself from enveloping Louis in his arms. 

“That’s a memory,” Harry whispered into Louis’ ear. “It’s a terrible memory. But look at me.” 

Harry held Louis’ face in both his hands and gently wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb. 

“You don’t have to hold it alone. I’m never going to understand, but I can hold a tiny piece of it for you. You can show me the terrible memories. You can be messy and depressed and angry. But we can make new memories too. We can plant new seeds. I know there’s a lot I still don’t understand. Hell, we haven’t even slept together.” 

Louis cracked a smile at that that warmed Harry’s heart and he grew bolder in his proclamations. “Right now, knowing all I know, I’d plant a field of lilies for you. I’m daring you to love me.” 

And then Louis was kissing him and it was messy and sudden and he hit the door jam behind him with a force he knew would leave a massive bruise tomorrow. And then, just as abruptly, Louis paused. 

“Why haven’t we slept together?”

“Well, Liam said that...”

“Bloody hell what did Liam say?”

“He said that you’d be hurt by guys who were just no strings attached and I didn’t want you to think…” 

“Harry. You cooked for me. You befriended my siblings. You tried to fight my work battle. You rhapsodize about me. And no one kisses like that if they’re only interested in a one night stand.”

“I’m a good kisser?”

“Shut up. You know you are.” Louis put his hands on Harry’s shoulder steadying both of them. “Now listen. My turn. I get so defensive and I put up walls and I lie to myself. Some of the things you said the other night are true, but sometimes I don’t even know myself what I want. But you’re brilliant. I see how you tend to the people you care for. But you make sure you have taken care of yourself too. You’d have to teach me so much about that if we do this. I love your ridiculous flower shirts. I’ve started to buy vegetable print ones for you but I haven’t worked up the courage to give them to you yet. I don’t know what I’m doing Harry. I can’t dare you to love me. But I can dare myself to try.”

And then Louis kissed Harry, and it felt like the promise of a new spring.


End file.
